


The Tha'kresis Tales of Xorposh

by MaerqwathShadowsoul



Series: The Xorposhian Tales [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Dark Fantasy, F/M, High Fantasy, Horror, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Original Mythology, Other, Psychological Drama, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 06:01:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17380973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaerqwathShadowsoul/pseuds/MaerqwathShadowsoul
Summary: In the shades of distant past, there was once a first Dark Lord, Mógrah Dormiel, but his fate and tale is further told in The Arcadianth Tales, which for now, is an infinitely larger body of work compared to The Tha'kresis Tales.This collection/work focuses on the doomed relationship of Ilethriam Mag-Narakjelf and Maerqwath Vor-Dremaris, but let it be known.Without Mógrah, there would be no Six Greater Evils, of which all are female, and sisters in death.And Tha'kresis is the realm / world ruled by Ilethriam, the evil Queen of Shadows. This is not a fandom, but an original series of Dark High Fantasy. However, this series is far, far from being complete. Full Chapter II coming in late 2019.





	The Tha'kresis Tales of Xorposh

The Xorposhian Tales—Tha'kresis of Her Dreams: Ilethriam's Insanity [1/5]

 

Poetic Tale Arc I: Memgortha, the Skeletal Protector of Tha'kresis

 

Based on Newékhriil, Ilethriam's Many Resurrections (A fictional legendarium written by Mother Darkness herself)

 

From now on, the story shall be narrated/divided in two, Good (Oerath Windsoul) and Evil (Maerqwath Shadowsoul)

 

Oerath Windsoul: "The Xorposh Universe has already gone through the cycle of endless ages, aeons, one could say, and the most important ones shall be named in time. One age is an equivalent of one thousand mortal years, while previously, it was only one hundred. Yes, I am.. the Windy One. The increase in years has been done in order to maintain the cosmicism of the mythology's timeless beings, and to dramatize the battle of Light and Darkness forever. Let them fight on, while the whole universe watches from the sidelines, scared, willing to participate, it's races shall know peace, if they are strong enough to survive the impending arrival of Ilethriam Mag-Narakjelf, the evil Queen of Shadows. May the Utmost High Celestials safeguard the maroon-coloured flame of tomorrow."

 

Maerqwath Shadowsoul: "When Darkness swept over the legendary forest of Saekmoeran, Light was left with limited dominion."

 

In the heart of grim, forgotten woods  
Lies the hut of a strange old woman  
Dressed in a time-worn robe, wearing a ragged hood  
Through dreams, she visits the elder realms forgotten by man

Inside her filthy hut, there's a stone altar  
Human trophies, lit candles and opened skulls filled with blood  
There's been nearly starless nights before, but tonight not even a single star..  
Will accept to appear in the stormy sky  
For she's about to summon an ancient evil  
Memgortha, The Skeleton God

She sees the world in a different, shadowy light  
Her wicked mind is filled with incantations of the black realm  
And only death and chaos reflects from her power-hungry; glowing eyes  
Eyes that see beyond this world and that of the dead...

Oom-hilm-a'ardomn  
(''Life to him, the king of bones.'')  
Yath-zeen-trii-astuum  
(''I drink from a skull filled with blood.'')  
Triah-ekhon-saarthos-riith  
(''This is your home, the garden of tombstones.'')  
Drakh-umbreiz-xariimnosha-memgortha-quatriin-akh  
(''O' Hallowed Deathbringer Memgortha, The Skeleton God.'')

Memgortha, Memgortha  
It is I who calls, your eternal servant of darkness  
Their bones I've crushed, their flesh I've cut and weighed  
Stones of power and the spectral gateway  
Powered by my demonsoul, ready to summon  
You back to this cursed world...

Memgortha, Memgortha  
With my eyes gone lidless, I stand before the altar of serpents  
Your aura lifts me into air, that is more than just poison for the others to breathe  
My black heart races of joy, for I am ready to present you my final offering  
An old yet powerful body, for your vessel I desire to be

I've abandoned my human guise, with a scythe I mutilated myself while I dreamed  
I've cast my clothes away; my flesh is rotting and my skin is torn  
All this to become one with your skeletal supremacy  
The ritual is nearing completion; and little do the mortal weaklings know  
That their world is about to be damned forever!

 

Poetic Tale Arc II: A Journey of the Land's End

 

Silently as the wind, they came from the woods long forgotten..  
The nameless horsemen, servants of the dark side of night..  
Distorted and hollow voices followed them like burning arrows..  
Shot from high above the trees to scar the very air with fire..

The acid rain, which kept pouring down was as cold as ice of the tallest mountains, the sky was dead, colorless and pale. On the path of dying daylight, wicked shadows just danced and danced without an end. Ruins of an old chapel, there it lay in the embrace of soil and strong world roots. Nothing was left of it's former glory, everything had been burned down to ground..

Their horses recognized a familiar smell; that of flesh, a corpse was found from the quiet stream of a nearby river. It momentarily satisfied their hunger, and so.. deeper into heart of the dark forest they rode. And as the riders kept galloping on, something terrifying awoke from it's forgotten slumber.. from the shadows they boldly arose, those most disfigured beings no longer alive nor sane.. they decided to follow the nameless horsemen, since everything seemed to blacken and die on their trail..

The air slowly started to merge with the grey mist, which kept arising from the ancient swamp. It quickly surrounded all remaining living trees and animals, and trapped them without proper vision in the dark. The horsemen and their newly found servants, they now beheld in front of them an old and grim tower, dark chanting and red glowing candlelight could be heard and seen there..

And as they mounted down from backs of their horses, dark clouds began to engulf the sky. Stars kept falling down one by one, as they entered through the heavy iron doors of that dark tower. Soon they formed a ring of fire and darkness, and spoke out the forbidden words into the black of night. And at that precise moment, the moon disappeared from the sky completely.. and the restless spirit of the queen of shadows awoke from her long dead sleep.. the monsters standing outside.. chanting.. waiting.. for the clouds to darken forever..

And all of the nameless horsemen, eleven in number, knelt down.. then she placed her cold hands upon their souls, and started to drain them empty from inside. Even the light from their faces began to fade into the home of death and oblivion, but all of the eleven men clad in black, they desired for even more suffering.

Becoming one with her eternally black spirit was their long-awaited fate and calling.. so that she of the shadows could walk the world once again.. in the form of flesh!

And after that night, the eleven men were no more,  
only their clothes and spirits remained,  
but the days of their humanity were now long gone!

The resurrected queen of shadows,  
now in her full strength, disappeared,  
and the dark tower crumbled down in all silence..  
barren and bleak the sight of it was meant for all eyes to see,  
until there would be nothing left..  
a true tale of darkness, a journey of the land's end!

 

Poetic Tale Arc III: One.. Last.. Sane.. Thought.. (The Mask of Death)

 

Maerqwath Shadowsoul: "To know Nostreleth is to be afraid of her to Death."

 

Nostreleth: "'Contracts are made, when blood games need to be played. Iwákhriin Nostreleth, dromukhae graelajash zudmerlein!"

 

Every night, the shadows move closer to me  
While I sit inside with my eyes closed  
All doors are now locked.. All windows are now blocked  
But still.. I fear that they will find a way to get in..

At times.. I really wonder.. Do gods really exist..  
If so, then why cannot one of them come and set me free?  
Cannot they see that I have suffered for far too long..  
Why cannot they send me to a place where I do belong..  
Just send me away!  
Cannot you put an end to this never-ending dream of pure insanity!?

I cannot understand.. I do not even know, how it all began..  
My mind used to be so clear, now there is barely nothing left of my former self..

I have lost all of my memories.. I have lost all of the people I once loved..  
Is this the price I had to pay, when I gave up on hope..  
When I lost control for the first time.. I committed such terrible crimes..  
But the shadows.. Yes.. The Shadows.. told me.. to do so..  
They told me to let go.. Off everything..

And now.. I realize that this day shall become my last..  
I want to forget everything about my dark past..  
There is nothing more left.. Just one final task..  
This insanity will die within me.. If I put on her mask..

I have to get rid off the shadows that keep chasing me!  
I do not want to see their faces anymore! I want them to let me be!

This is it.. I have nothing more to say..  
But I hope that I will see my family and my friends again one day..  
The shadows have surrounded me.. I have no place where to go..  
If I manage to unlock the powers of this mask.. Then I have finally found a way out..

But first.. I want one last sane thought..  
That is all I am asking for.. After that I will finally bow..  
To Death herself..  
Once again, I will let her scythe to be my end...

His whole body trembled, as he staggered into the right corner of his room. He then picked up the mask from marble floor and placed it unto his head. Then he coughed blood out of his mouth for one last time, before he finally collapsed. Now lying nearly breathless on the floor, he knew he was running out of time.. Now, if ever, would be his only chance to get that one last sane thought..

And in a brief moment, his eyes opened far and wide and he indeed had it.. For he saw something.. A vision.. A forgotten memory..

He saw himself walking across the endless dunes of a strangely shadowy desert. He did not know how he had got there, but the sun burnt brightly in the white sky while he kept treading forth, his feet buried in hot, yet silky sand. A gentle breeze blew from the east, and as it touched his sweating and burnt face, it gave him hope. There had to be a way out of the desert. There had to be a lagoon.. Somewhere.. But no.. After hours of walking, he finally collapsed. He had ran out of water a long time ago, and there he now lay, on a bed made of sand. Strange, it all felt so calm, even though knew that if he would not get up and manage to find water soon, he would die. So by pushing his body to it's limits, he finally managed to rise up. It was so warm, every breath he took felt like any of those could have been his last. He was about to give up on hope, but then, he saw something.. even stranger.

Someone stood in the distance. Wearing black clothes, a robe or a gown. Who is this woman? He wondered. She waved her hand, almost like she wanted him to come forth. After a moment's hesitation, he walked to her and asked: "If.. If you are not one of the shadows, then what or who are you?'"

"I am the one, who came here to save you. Now, take this mask and use it, when you have nowhere to go, nothing to do and none to talk to.  
But remember, that you cannot tell anyone about this mask. I am none, we never talked, we never even met. I did not give you this mask. You found it... From the desert..."

Feeling confused, the man simply nodded and accepted her gift, and watched as the woman walked a few steps away and used her exceptionally long and dark scythe to open an eerie; glowing portal. Then she smiled and said to him: 'This portal will take you back to the place, where you began your journey. Without my help, you would have soon died, so consider this a contract. One day you will put that mask on, and when that day finally comes, I will seek you out, and use this scythe to complete.. Your.. Life.'

Without thinking it further, he stepped through the portal and found himself to be back at his home, from where he started the journey in the first place. He remembered nothing, except for one thing. He had managed to get out of the desert and found help, and that he had found a mysterious mask.. From the desert.

And then the vision ended.. And he thought..

"Death.. Damn you.. Show yourself!"

And only seconds later, by looking into a mirror, the reflection revealed her to be right behind him. And that is when he saw the scythe and heard her mocking words.

"Has the mask served it's purpose, mortal one.. Mind if I take it back? Oh dear.. do not worry, for in time, you too shall come to know.. the true meaning of darkness.. a life without regrets of the light.. unending is the night.. in my realm of the deep below.. in another dimension I reside.. now, step through the burning gate.. embrace the hellish pain.. of my undying flames."

After that, he heard nothing else. And the last thing he felt, was the shivering touch of her scythe.

"Forgive me everyone.. In the end.. I was.. Just.. One.. Of her puppets..."

And then he died, but even as he stepped through the glowing doors of the end, he repeated the words that became his last.. clear ones.. ever.. yet this time.. he needed not.. to ask her to show herself.. only one glimpse at her without that mask on.. her true face.. is all.. it takes.. and now.. all is lost...

"Death.. Damn you.."

 

Poetic Tale Arc IV: And So I Met the Messenger of Death

 

Last night I awoke to a haunting nightmare,  
I was sweating and I couldn't stop shaking.  
And it wasn't just a mere nightmare, and I knew that I wouldn't ever dare  
to speak about it to anyone.. 'cause it would change everything.

For in that strange and disturbing dream,  
I was walking in a nearby forest.  
And like always, all birds were singing to me  
and the weather was most beautiful.  
But good dreams can change instantly for the worse,  
and all of a sudden, I started to feel immense pain in my chest.  
And that is when.. I saw him, a hooded man lurking behind the trees.  
A man with an aura so dark and dreadful,  
truly this man carried a gift both vile and cursed,  
for at the moment he stepped forth, the sky went completely dim,  
the clouds darkened, and the wind became very cold.  
And it was then, that I realized I had seen him before..  
in another shadowy dream.. in the forgotten days of old.

And now the past once more echoes with power,  
great truths are being revealed.  
He, who dares to walk in the dark forest until the late hour,  
shall now be granted a fateful meeting with an envoy of the deceased!

I found myself too scared to move. My body wouldn't listen to me, it wouldn't obey any of my commands. I could only stand there and watch, as the hooded man neared me, one step by step. Then.. He just stopped. And at that moment, something strange caught my attention. His left hand, it was.. rotten and showed signs of decaying. Then he placed that hand against a pine tree, scratching it's wood with his long and bloody nails. And then.. from the cover of his black robe, he took out a very long scythe, one of which marks and engravings I had seen before. I just couldn't remember where.. Or when. But the most disturbing thing occurred, when the man suddenly glanced at me, lifting his hood a little, revealing his gruesome face. That face, I still can't shake the imprinted image of the event itself left lingering inside my weak human mind. The right half of his face was wholly skeletal, nothing but bone. But the left half.. Just like his hand, it had flesh on it, but that half of his face was rotten, with worms and other disgusting insects crawling in and out off his eye socket. That vile sight made me so sick that I was close to vomit, but instead, I closed my eyes, shook my head and tried to tell myself that none of this was even real. Well, little it mattered, little it helped, for when I opened my eyes again, he was suddenly standing right.. in front of.. me. I took a few careless steps behind, staggering, falling on my back unto dirty and rainy ground. And at that moment of pure fear, I realized that there was no escape. This was it. But then something truly unexpected happened. The man himself took a few steps back, switching into a most strange stance. He hit the scythe deep unto soil and stretched his other hand towards me, pointing me with it.. And then he spoke out the words that have been lurking inside my head ever since. His voice was full of malevolence, death and all that is unholy. And each time he spoke, I felt that same agonizing pain in my chest I had felt earlier. And it felt like someone was trying to pull my heart out with bare hands. And this is the conversation that followed.

"Do you know the meaning of life and death, mortal one?"

"I don't unders-"

"DO YOU KNOW THE MEANING OF LIFE AND DEATH.. death.. death..."'

"Yes.. Yes. I.. do.."

"You say that you know the meaning of life and death, yet your words are few and they fail you. For I can see it from your face, sense it from your way of speech and feel it in your empty words. You, mortal one, lack it all. Confidence, certainty and truth. Fear has taken a firm hold of you and it won't let you go. And fear is what makes you to say yes."

"But, I.."

"Speak not another word, or I'll strike you down, and then you'll face a death beyond your imagining. But then again, death is a good option compared to life, for life is short, easily gained and easily lost. But death.. Death is somewhat eternal. With no second chances, no turning back, death is something we all should embrace. Death is a calling, death is a virtue, death is a sinful comfort of both the sane and the insane. Death weighs much more than life. So it is and so it shall forever be. And you seem to know it too. Yes, I've looked inside your mind and I've seen death in it's purest form. Your soul is.. Tainted. You don't even think about life, for life is too simple and weak to you. But death, it has caught you in a web from which you can't no longer free yourself from.. There's no denying it. Death is your true calling."

"I.. Yes.. How can you even know these things?"

"I know everything there is to know about you, mortal one. I hold three magical cards in my hands. The first one of them represents your past, present and future. The second one of them represents your acts and deeds. And the third one of them represents your interests in life both as a person and as a human being."

"So.. You know.. Who on earth are you? I am sure that I've seen you before in one of my dreams, but all of my memories seem so hazy, so distant. So who.. Who on earth are you..."

And then I collapsed once more, for the ever so thundering voice of this nameless hooded man, was again too much for me..

"I am none, I'm a man without a name! But in the realm of the dead and the damned, they call me the Messenger of Death. And if I deem your existence worthy enough, you shall come with me and then, mortal one, you too will live the rest of your life without a name."

"Death? Without a name? I do not underst.."

"You don't need to understand, but let it be known. Death is only a mere alias to she, whom no mirror can see, no light can find and no holy power can weaken. You know her, don't you? Yes, you've seen her in your dreams.. No.. And not in just one.. In all.. Of them.."

"Yes.. I've seen her.. She fascinates me.. I-"

"Be silent! Good.. Now I must ask of you one more time. Do you know the meaning of life and death?"

And upon that moment of dread, I.. Seemed to recall the right words, though they had never even lingered in my mind before that day. Strange. I, however, accepted this knowledge without a moment's hesitation. I guess it's the darkness within me that makes the calls now..

"Yes.. Life is short, easily gained and easily lost, but death is eternal. With no second chances, no turning back, death is something we all should embrace. Death is a calling, death is a virtue, death is a sinful comfort of both the sane and the insane. Death weights much more than life. So it is and so it shall forever be."

"Your answer is.. correct. Now, come with me. She is already waiting for us."

And so the messenger covered his face with hood once more, and then opened a shadowy, otherworldly portal that would lead us to the place, where only the dead are free to roam. To the home of all that is dark and evil. To the home of Death.

And once we were on the other side, the messenger muttered a few words in a language unknown to me and hence, a hidden stairway began to form from under the ground, revealing it's hidden existence step by step. Those stairs seemed to lead way below the ground. And then, we began to descend those dark and long stairs without hesitation and soon found ourselves standing behind a most black; ever so inviting door. A door unlike anything I had ever seen. It had strange inscription on it's surface and it seemed very.. living, to say the least. And once we had entered through it, the messenger showed me something I had only believed to be a myth. He urged me to take a look at the black door behind us and somehow, I could see into my former life right through it. I had once read about a door that's called 'The door that stands between life and death', but I never imagined it to truly exist. My accomplishments, failures and memories, I could see them all.. Tens of thousands of images flashing before my very eyes.. It was like an endless cinematic of torment, and it felt disturbing. But when my curiosity told me to reach for the door, the messenger coldly and without emotion, ordered me to step away from it. A part of me wanted to go back, but then I obeyed and so we continued our long walk towards the nightmarish Castle of Death.

From that moment on, we would encounter countless of graveyards, unholy tombs and most haunting and dark forests. But finally, we got there.. And once I saw her castle with my own eyes, only word that came into my mind were glorious and magnificent.. That creation of fine dark marble stone was so tall, it's spiraling towers reached so high that I couldn't even see some of the rooftops. They reached well above the sky, or what I at first believed to be the sky. It proved to be pure void itself. And why? Well, such is the underworld. A realm of shadow and pure void. If you think about it for a while inside your head, it all starts to make sense.. In some strange way.

And standing near the castle and it's great gates of chaos, was a woman, whose beauty made us both kneel down in lust and shame. I couldn't even look into her eyes. Her eyes were so mesmerizing, so black and lifeless, yet so beautiful. But then she approached me, holding a grim and long scythe firmly and gently in her right hand. And giving me a pleasant smile, she took a hold of my cheek, raised my head and whispered to my left ear: "Welcome to my realm, dear.." - And that said, she thrust her scythe's sharp blade right through my stomach, beginning to drain my very soul out.. I screamed in pain and agony, but then she touched my face with her left hand, saying: "Hush, hush, it's alright, my dear.. You've nothing to fear.."

But then something in that hand's palm moved.. Something.. Living.. I could only see sewings at first, but as those sewings broke, they revealed a monster's mouth. And sooner than I could even realize, she had opened my mouth and was already forcing her left hand down my throat and I felt as the monstrous mouth in her hand began to devour on my spirit. Then only moments later, she pulled the scythe off along with her hand that had just eaten every bit of my humanity. And as her final act of cruelty, she dropped her long scythe to ground, and as quickly as a sword pierces a human body, she ripped my heart off and took it as her own, to be put inside a jar, to lie awaiting for a day when she would need it. And without a soul, a spirit and a heart I now was, and truly belonged to her. In a blink of an eye, I had been rendered off all the things that had made me human. And now, I only knew of obeyance and servitude.. From that point onward, I would be hers forever. Willing to obey her every command... And her every dark desire...

And there he now sits on the filthy ground,  
the man without spirit, heart or soul!  
Turned into a servant of darkness for an eternity,  
he's now bound to become one  
of Death's human turned into a gruesome ghoul!

And that's when I finally.. Awoke. All of the mentioned happened in that shadowy dream, in which I chose death instead of life. I know that I could've just fled the messenger and cling to my precious life, but no, I think I chose death with a purpose. Maybe it's my true calling after all. Maybe I'm destined to follow the path of She, whom no mirror can see.. No light can find.. And no holy power can weaken. I hope not, but you never really know.. Do you..

 

Poetic Tale Arc V: Serannah Ebsontheia Mag'risha (Evil)

 

She of the distorted nightfalls kept knocking on the dimensional door once again,  
hoping a higher evil one would soon let her in,  
a powerful witch in life lost to time,  
a true beauty by magic and blood stained,  
once upon a day olden, an invitation of cruelties was sent to her,  
a gift which she accepted, willingly, the storms imbued together  
with her soul, with blood her existence is fed, so that she may live forever.

 

Darkly so, what fate befell you after the teleportation,  
o' sorceress fathomlessly ageless and dreaded?  
Is it the truth, Serannah, that your story never truly even ended?

 

Maerqwath: "For the souls you claimed, untold hundreds of years those tokens of wrongful blood you must have granted, since many centuries have already turned, and yet nothing of it is enough to take away your elegance of appearance and beauty, blinding beyond limits. In the fire vision of malevolent screams, she calls out to you, trying to break you, do not show any signs of fragility, or you are gone, lost beyond hope, sent to sail on a weak wooden boat across the lightning sea of maggots, serpents and corpses. Evil is eternal."

 

Even the acolytes desire for the legend,  
their hunger never ends, the skeletal abominations,  
your flesh is most wanted,  
the mere thought of your sudden arrival leaves most minds haunted,  
in shadows you wait, for a day to arrive,  
when all rivers red go silent, your splendor will shine,  
from within the storm of storms you sing into the night,  
the tower of dark fate still stands mighty and tall,  
may the true night never fall in your dismal eyes of doom,  
in your garden of hopelessness and deathly dreams come true,  
only the flowers black, thorny and venomous bloom.

 

Evil gods / truly powerful beings in the Ancient Demon Realm of Tha'kresis:

 

Lord Dethrial (Darkly Ascended Master Sorcerer)  
The Skeleton God Memgortha (Eternal)  
Serannah, the Serpent Witch of Storms (Eternal)  
Ceremiel, Ruling Queen of the Witches (Darkly Ascended Witch)  
Serithiel, Ceremiel's daughter, (A Witch and Cultist)  
Woloordakh, the legendary acting Demon God-King of Tha'kresis (Eternal; physically dead - he rules Ilethriam's most important sanctuary)  
The thirteen gruesome fates, the Soul-keepers of the Outer Most Realms (Eternal)  
Oth Megnaash, High Council of the Dark Sorcerers (the Darkly Ascended)  
Ythe Istaurnom, High Council of the Sacred Conjurers (the Lightly Ascended, the Last Shining Hope within the confines of Tha'kresis)  
The Lesser Demon Gods of Ruuthzima (Eternal)  
The Six Greater Evils: Darkness, Death, Destruction, Chaos, Hate and Evil (confirmed to be Serannah)  
The Elder Chanters of Quaxalathen (Ilethriam's sworn elite cultists)

The original work about Serannah: 'A tower that lies within the Heart of the Storm of Storms'

 

Misty hills.. Silence fills the murky air..  
And the hungry shadows move, where none else dares..  
And then the darkness lands.. Engulfing it all.. Covering the ground..  
The dead are answering to her call.. Swiftly, and without sound..

And ten thousand careless steps away from here..  
There's a forest of which none likes to speak about..  
And where even the sun won't show herself, because she fears..  
There stands a tower that lies within the Heart of the Storm of Storms..

A tower that is guarded by lightning and very powerful enchantments..  
A tower that is full of death, none has ever returned from there to tell about the tale..

You may see that tower with your own eyes..  
Just go outside.. And look up to the cloudy skies  
And you should see the peak of that tower of death and demise..

And if you look closely enough..  
You may see her standing there too.. High above..  
She is the mistress of night, the devourer of all light..  
Serannah is her name.. And her heart is full of venom and lies..

For hundreds of years, she has lived there..  
Hiding in shades of the night..  
But today is the day,  
When she will descend down from the sky..  
To claim this world as her own..  
She is a witch, a rotting plague, a real curse..  
As long as she lives, there will be no hope of peace..  
She is a human form of death and diseases..

And even one look from her deadly and black eyes..  
Can kill you instantly.. Without pain and suffering..  
And even one drop of tear, when she starts to cry..  
Can burn everything.. Leaving nothing, but blood and ashes behind

I see two mortal men.. Standing at the gates..  
Holding torches, wielding axes.. But they're far too late..  
Should I steal their souls.. And cast them into the black nothingness..  
Or should I summon my minions..  
And let them to eat and devour, until there would be nothing left..

Either way.. There's no escape.. The end of this world is at hand..  
And soon my shadows will engulf every forest and land..  
This day shall be known as a day.. When the whole of mankind were reduced to mere spirits, most even disappeared  
And there's no way to stop me now.. This dream of mine shall finally become real..

But before I will destroy this world..  
I desire to sing with a voice, so evil and cursed..

Welcome to my home, to the gallery of darkness and lies  
This is the hall of emptiness and demise  
I have a tongue of poison, I have a mind so dim and cruel  
I am the face of every mirror, I am the serpent's truth

And those two men just watched, as she raised her dark runic staff into the air, and called forth the forces of all that is dark and forgotten.  
And by using her new powers, she created a massive bolt of black thunder, and sent it whirling towards the earth. And as it exploded, it took all life, and everything with it in it's devastating wake. Only the tower, that which still was caught up in the storm of storms, was left standing. And thus, she had fulfilled her promise. And upon looking at the now bleak and hollow world once more, she then used all of her powers to teleport her and the very tower itself into another, very far away realm of pure impossibilities. Probably never to be seen again, but she would surely be remembered by spirits of the world, who were left to wander the destroyed surface of the world because of her.

So not everything was lost..  
For something new will always arise from the ashes of destruction..  
Though she ended the world, our spirits will still live on..  
And in shadows we shall await..

 

For a hero, who will arrive one day. to save and redeem us all. He will possess the required powers to resurrect our spirits, and thus reclaim our life force back from the Serpent Witch of Storms, Serannah. And then he will show us a way to put an end to her wicked and evil play. But until that day.. All we can do.. Is wait.. For nothing.

 

Poetic Tale Arc VI: Daerwyn, the Darkly Ascended Sorcerer

 

Captured by an otherworldly blizzard  
I boldly stand in it's eye, yet I still see what is left of the sky  
All of this just to erase my image from every lake's surface  
And from the face of every mirror  
But know that this is my greatest hour  
I've waited for too long..  
My wait will end to a horrifying cry of death  
Yet I dare say the experience will be more than just divine  
Though I wouldn't even have to meet the thirteen gruesome fates..  
If only the black book of Lord Dethrial was already mine..

But why?  
And even more interesting..  
Will he.. succeed?

'In my own words, I've always desired to be equal to my master. In power, knowledge, everything. And if I succeed in what I'm trying to achieve, I shall still serve him for a time, and hope that he won't ever come to know of what I've done. But should I fail, well, that would change nothing. Expect give my lord a reason to search for a replacement for me. Now, let us begin. My name is Daerwyn, and I am a dark sorcerer, a practiser of the forbidden arts. I've been following the shadows of the thirteen gruesome fates, mighty beings of the outer realms, the judges of the living, ever since my early childhood. And as my interests grew and I began exploring more, I caught the attention of the dark side of the world. And not much later, I met my future master, Lord Dethrial. A renowned and immensely powerful sorcerer of the forbidden arts. He didn't even approach me, for he summoned me directly to his hide-out and told me that I shall be his new apprentice and that should I turn the offer down, I would be thrown into the lifeless darkness twisted by the ravaging forces of time, that lies beyond our world – to forever linger there in the abyss, in which one can't even form thoughts well.

With so little choice given, I pledged myself to his service for an eternity. But now, the time has come to take those words back. Should I fail now after all the things I had to go through to get to this point, I would be a shame to the whole dark side of the world. I will succeed in learning the secrets of the thirteen gruesome fates, and then I shall return and slay my master.. Lord Dethrial. Though it won't end to that, for an old friend of mine has been foolish enough to undo the banishment spell of The Skeleton God, Memgortha, who once upon a time, almost caused the utter destruction of this world. That hag.. I must put an end to her miserable life too, but first.. Ancient evils, grant me strength to endure this pain! Hear me, you wretched fates! I seek your guidance, your superior knowledge. My soul has been reinforced, my spirit won't break! I will suffer through your petty trials! Take my soul and then let me reclaim it through hard effort and as a result of years long careful preparation. And if I succeed, you shall give me that which I desire the most.. The power.. To slay Lord Dethrial!'

And then a legendary moment's silence filled the air from across the face of the whole world, and then..

The thirteen gruesome fates spoke:

'Very well, Daerwyn. We accept your challenge. The trials shall now begin. Soon, you'll feel the greatest pain of your life, and we assure you.. Never shall you feel such pain again, such torment beyond the limits of human endurance and understanding. But know this, if you indeed manage to survive these trials, you won't ever have to call yourself human, or a mortal again, for after that point.. It will be impossible. And you should also know this. Many have sought us out for guidance and knowledge along these countless of eons of years, and yet only one person has left this place as a true victor and become a god, first only from his mind, for we can only grant you knowledge. It is all up to you to use that knowledge in the ways you see fit. We knew the reason for your arrival, before you even decided to seek us out, and be warned now, Daerwyn. Our ancient knowledge is older than anything that exists in this universe. You may not yet be ready to gain such maddening powers, for none can prepare you for a thing like that. You hear us, none, nothing!

And without further warnings, let the trials begin! Brothers and sisters.. Tear.. His.. Very soul.. APART! To pieces, now! This is how you're judged! Each piece of your soul shall have an arena, a great war of it's own. Survive and rise in the ranks as victorious. We don't believe in you, and you're likely to perish, but we shall see. We indeed shall see!

And so the torment of the ages began. Daerwyn would endure, for he had waited for this moment over a half his life. He was more than ready, and he despaired not. He didn't see an end to his ways, for all that he saw, was the future of him bearing dominance.. Over all that is. In the name of Ilethriam Mag-Narakjelf. So many have tried to become her ultimate champion, and nearly all of them have failed. Miserably. This is not the last of Daerwyn. The Third Dark Lord, whose time is yet to come.

 

Poetic Tale Arc VII: The Blood Moon of Nostreleth

 

For very strange reasons,  
they shield themselves with warmth.  
But I am not one of them,  
I am a true daughter of darkness,  
my eyes have truly opened..  
and my heart feels nothing at all...

Harsh winds honor my arrival,  
as I ascend the black; wooden stairs.  
Carrying a black book and a bloody knife,  
I am ready to begin the nightfall ritual.  
And once I have completed it and blackened my soul forever,  
the dead shall rise from their age-old graves,  
and then I will be able to travel beyond the walls of time!

To me, all that was once living has ceased to be,  
everything about being mortal.. is a lie.  
In my mind, I have already died a thousand times,  
and I have seen things that all wicked men and women..  
desire to see, and for those reasons alone..  
unlike you.. time after time, I choose death instead of life!

And every passing year, I slowly become..  
closer to being one with everything,  
that is hollow and gone!

Step aside, the Sanguine Autumn!  
And please make way..  
for the Eternally Dark..  
Winter of Whispering Dooms!

Do you still not know who or what I am!?

I am all of your unholy feelings..  
I am your reflection of a damnation..  
I am the evil one pulling the red strings..  
I am your downfall and momentary salvation!

I am all that is dead and cold,  
I am the dread you so feverishly feel.  
I am the maker of contracts, the scourge of old people,  
behold me unmasked, and you are certain to collapse from fear.

I am everything that is mentally tormenting,  
I walk in the shadows, dragging my colossal scythe behind.  
I am death itself, the one who is always capable of murdering,  
I am the blood moon in pale sky above the withering trees.

And I would not be as cold as I truly am,  
If I would not give you an invitation to my home.  
Forget everything about natural deaths and experience the grand  
truth so harsh and vile, yet so beautiful in it's most darkest form!

Welcome to the house..  
of dripping; deadly poison!  
Here the arachnids eat our flesh,  
here we experiment on new ways how to die!  
And the same gloomy melody  
of melancholy keeps playing on,  
as we slowly succumb to overall pain  
caused by venomous serpent bites.

You are not supposed to understand,  
but do you still think that this is just another bad dream?  
Open your eyes, and rise up if you are able to stand,  
and look into the mirror.. do you see yourself.. or just me?

We are both trying to drown each other  
in waters of the blackest of all lakes!  
And in the darkness of midnight blue,  
you stand tall and mighty,  
yet without any clever choices to make!

There are no safe roads to take,  
and just like in every dark story,  
I reign over life,  
for I was born to die..  
time after time!

I am the blood moon in pale sky..  
above the withering trees..  
you are like a book I am about to close for good..  
your life weighs less than my ancient mask..  
and from this day onward, your soul shall never be free,  
as I now joyously complete the assigned task.

 

Nostreleth: "I am Death, she who does not knock, watch me dance, hear me mock. Blood flows, wherever I go. The shadows follow me, for I became their precious child.. thousands of ages ago."

 

Poetic Tale Arc VIII: Maerqwath Vor-Dremaris (Introduction)

 

Far in the great distance, she sees a mountain so dark and tall  
It is said that a very old being resides there, high above the clouds of this world  
And in her heart she knows that it's not even a myth, for in her dreams she has seen it's obscure halls  
But she has not seen it's true form, but it must be a horrifying combination of heavenly blessed and wickedly accursed..

With tens of ravens flying in the air, and even more of them sitting upon his both shoulders. He arises and speaks with words greater than any mortal man. Yes.. These are the words of a powerful god.

Where the sunlight nearly never shines through the black, storm clouds  
Where the wind feels itself at so much of unease, that it refuses to blow..  
There indeed stands the mystical mountain of Maerqwath, the Raven God  
A timeless being who cannot just simply wither away, for he has a dark fate of his own

And there the mortals - time after time - climb up high, in search of the truth  
Yet they're greeted with terrifying storms of razor sharp winds possessing a power so terrifying and cruel  
And there he sits upon the high throne of dim feathers, always awaiting for the night to fall  
Of those who have come to challenge him, none has ever been able to lay claim upon his dark, iron crown!

From the fields of pure, green grass and long, oaken trees  
A wandering woman looks far into the distance at a ghostly mountain she keeps seeing in her shadowy dreams  
She wonders, if she somehow could make that long climb, yet would it really be worth of her time..  
Still.. It would surely be curious to find out, who this so-called, the Raven God really is..  
Or is his whole existence just a myth, and if not, then could be even be a messenger of death sent to walk upon the earth from the depths of the black abyss..

And so she finally decides to climb..

This was to be expected..

And so a shadowy figure arises and steps out of the darkness into the light, which shines so faintly through the windows of his majestic, dark halls. He has the face of a mortal man, yet no signs of aging can be seen on his pale face, and even his eyes are blacker than the night itself. And as he keeps walking forward, he suddenly sees an exhausted mortal woman lying on the cold, marble floor. And so he stops for a while, and looks deep into her eyes, as he speaks out the following words..

 

"Only a few of your kind even know of my existence.. Coming after me.. There's no salvation in your reach. It's a worthless quest. Accept it, you're nothing but a mere mortal. You aren't meant for great things. I am.. Quite surprised you've managed to come this far, but I'm afraid this is the end of your dreamy road. Death is one of the things that can set you free. And it happens so, that it is a blessing I can very well grant to you.. But no.. I've actually no intention to call upon that force.

Call this your.. Palace of destiny for now, for only time will show what you were meant to achieve in means of cosmic power and limitless, dark spirituality..

I am Maerqwath Vor-Dremaris, the Raven God. Welcome to my home, to the ancient castle of darkness, time-lost dreams and drifting memories.

Do not think of this as the end..  
Think of it as.. A fateful chance given.."

 

Poetic Tale Chapter IX: Mother Darkness Leads the Way (Introduction)

 

Bleed, bleed  
for the moon that once shone,  
heed, heed  
the abysmal one's echoing words.

Bleed, bleed,  
a heart's cold, bones broken,  
heed, heed  
the call of hungry blackbirds.

None treads everywhere is night,  
all of her shadows have been freed,  
we are not the followers of light,  
ours is the path of help those in need of evil!

All prayers shall die tonight!

Mother Darkness grieves  
the loss of her unholy children,  
while Father Madness stirs in the minds,  
ever confusing the thoughts and dreams of men.

All she lost were the dancing shadows,  
the most precious ones she ever had!  
And this is the future belongs to her and her alone,  
for after all, it is a sign of weakness to be sad!

All prayers shall die tonight!

She wishes a cloak of doom upon us all,  
it is her final night of gifts, which shall soon fall,  
all prayers were always meant to die tonight,  
Mother Darkness will soon forever blacken the sky.

Otherworldly glorious,  
supremely victorious,  
the chant was for black magic and power,  
for even the soulless ones can sing,  
to darkest of all tunes the dead may soon dance,  
as the overture ends and the main theme itself begins,  
you cannot hear the footsteps of Daughter of Darkness,  
one single wrongful glance, and it is all over,  
stomp the ground with your black heels once,  
to send forth a ghastly sound wave of disturbing noises,  
and they shall all cower in fear, with deadly elegance  
we must end this song of dark remembrance and unholiness,  
through which beauty only the truest believers of the unlightened  
now have a chance to dance with the dead, until it is all over.. evermore.

There I was walking across the graveyard, hooded, wearing a robe,  
many crows sitting upon my shoulders, I cared not for the rain,  
let it pour down from the heavens grey, I never felt any real pain,  
no hope to go on with, death came here to stay, to silence the day,  
let her finish the task at hand by letting my flesh become a part of this barren land.

Mother Darkness cries behind the webbed curtains,  
blood flows down from her cursed earthly fountains,  
it pains me not to say that full of bloodstains is the altar of occultic prayers,  
open the last door to be welcomed to the house of ominous soothsayers.

Mother Darkness prays for the night to be eternal,  
her will makes the words echo across this great wasteland,  
all paths chosen for us were meant to be infernal,  
heresy comes first, now quench your thirst with your face covered in sand.

Catch a serpent from the well of seething promises,  
their wills completely bent, the cultists lie paralyzed  
on the red floor of this dark cathedral,  
only blackness to be seen in their eyes,  
like horrid parasites, they shriek, crawl,  
then they just lose their minds,  
for Mother Darkness leads the way,  
her lightlessness blinds,  
yet they all choose to pray..  
and just like the tormenting whispers say...

 

Ilethriam: "In death you shall find that, which you have always been looking for, o' child gifted with a dismal curiosity. Yours is to unearth.. the blood red claw, an artifact of power, which upon activation shall open the way of the starless sky, leading all the chosen ones to my otherworldly dimensional; underground city."

 

Poetic Tale Arc X: This Is the Path Offered by Darkness

 

The golden; bloodied cow statue and the undying bonfire,  
the mad elders standing within a forbidden circle,  
Darkness shows itself in form of a flock of three-eyed crows,  
hungry for the gold you are wearing,  
with your blood.. miracles shall be performed,  
unsettling themes follow one another,  
while I keep treading forth in the deepest  
and longest of all existing natural burrows,  
a dark grey colored book is unexpectedly unearthed,  
five forbidden words are immediately read aloud:  
"Nobzregleth, ivastriim, enomrael, braghevremne, krulentraagh.."  
through which, ancient evils shall be summoned,  
soon all is to blacken, blessed be the shattering of light spirit bonds,  
these bones grow weak, too weak, to walk.. is to know pain..  
to talk.. is impossible, without tongues,  
we are left alone to cherish in the madness of these wavering walls,  
for this is the path offered by Darkness,  
choose it if your wish.. is to vanish..

..from the reach of light, if you are able,  
o' child of the now dim sun,  
a will of ultimate chaos  
should be enough to give birth to a supernova,  
unlock the door of perilous secrets and improved intelligence,  
none should carry the master key of infinite space and possibilities..  
the glassy veil of life shatters into millions of pieces,  
hurting this world, but not enough..  
come a tidal wave of hopelessness,  
crush all of the dreams, yet unite the accursed seas,  
and take the highest trees and greatest rocks as your own,  
your will is to spread sorrow, for you were always fated to do so,  
the errors of our mythic past led us all here,  
to be captured.. by the cult..  
of demonic deep water monster worshippers..  
o' faceless watchers of the dimensions dark..  
my eyes bleed.. yet pain is all I need..  
the ageless wisdom of darkness..  
is only achieved by going through..  
the abyss generated portal of distorted time and lost destinies..

..traverse in the deep waters of unholy knowledge,  
pledge yourself to the service..  
of the eyeless witches.. offering riches..  
in form of blood sacrifices.. their faces..  
are many.. their vile lies.. even more so.. black as coal is the throne..  
of the one who was meant to rule over the night's restless shadows.

Tha'kresis...  
Zubra-netriif-naraglomm...  
Vradeshriik...

 

Poetic Tale Arc XI: The Six Greater Evils (Introduction)

 

Eldritch; alien landscapes once more call me to trip,  
fog of the aeons surrounds my being, my grand ship,  
fueled by raging solar energy, was lost in a storm..  
of unexpected universal Chaos, observe the actions  
of these lesser lifeforms born with ill-fated omens  
within the halls of their minds, order all gone,  
the insanity of Death knows no bounds,  
in this dim part of the galaxy, having visions..  
of great events of the past, dark truths unrevealed,  
cryptic and strange messages told in gusts of dead wind.

Destiny: obscured,  
agony: unbearable,  
harmony: nonexistent.

Colossal; square mountains fall from the comfort  
of the beautifully divided skies,  
down, down into the swirling abyss.

Of sanguine red and vortex black,  
now there is no turning back..  
evil things with eyes on my back,  
the night's arrival always signals..  
a terrifying monster attack,  
the lack of faith in goodness  
and the light of radiance,  
track the horrid; winged ones down,  
sail across the sea of fangs and portals,  
then visit the ancient pyramid-like multi-dimensional  
structures of the horrid Elders of Quaxalathen.

Darkness will claim your very name,  
Death and her scythe are not to blame,  
Evil enjoys of dark and wicked games,  
Destruction follows his paths of nothingness,  
Hate shows itself in form of tormenting lies and whispers,  
while Chaos boldly walks away.. with a burning plan..  
to cross the line.. for through space and time..  
he would travel all the way to the Great World of Arcadianth..  
under the orders of the darkest of all existing beings..  
Mógrah Dormiel, once the Guardian of the Dead and the Spirits,  
now a vile lord of darkness, and a monstrous knight of wrath,  
wearing a full set of cursed armor seething with demonic evil,  
in the terrifying blackness of the night he always rides alone  
upon the back of the dead unicorn, Emagreviim,  
wielding the fleshly two-handed sword, Grud'yrashe,  
of which eyes absorb souls, and mouths feed on all living things.

Though rest assured, in time, he shall answer for his crimes,  
but now, let the darkness of Tha'kresis reign supreme,  
for this ancient realm.. and all the dark things that reside within..  
belong to him.. the origin of all evil.. a grave threat to the Xorposh..  
the Two Utmost Celestial Ones.. did not take kindly.. to the occurrence..  
of the event.. during which.. the Six Greater Evils were born..

 

Truugherask... Avhedesklef...  
Krothnafleram... Umekhraveeth...

 

Poetic Tale Arc XII: The Lord of Pain, Ravens, Wind and Whispers

 

Not many have climbed atop  
a towering mountain of horrors,  
which reaches high above the clouds of the known world,  
up there in the daring cosmic heights  
lie the dark dream castle of Maerqwath Vor-Dremaris,  
he who gave pain, mysticism, wind and whispers black; feathery wings,  
and then told them to spread the word of the accursed..

..so fly, o' all ye hundreds of thousands of red-eyed ravens,  
the rites of forbidden magic have been graciously read out,  
witness the final blackening of the heavens,  
opened shall be the way of the starless sky.. first.. I had my doubts,  
yet now.. after awakening from a nightmare of light and warmth..

..I shall once more call out to the one,  
who gifted our kind with lightlessness that blinds,  
she who always watches into the night,  
she who cherishes the dancing shadows the most,  
she who would turn teardrops of the sky into ashes  
only to prove her ancient rule over the light..

..let it be known..  
her name.. is..  
Mother Darkness..  
now silence..  
kneel down..  
for you must..  
hear the dreaded message..  
of the revered..  
Father Madness.

 

Maerqwath: "Enter the vast study of obscurely artistic visions and strangely mad decisions, where hundreds of statues of black marble stone carved to forever bleed blood from their eyes opened wide stand in a very oblique line. It's high walls are lined up with paintings of different species, all painted in gruesome and deathly a detail, an insanely large palette and countless paintbrushes lying upon a demonic; wooden table next to tens of thousands of unfinished paintings depicting a thunderous; spiraling vortex with a hue of crimson insanity. This age-old castle is cursed, and thus it is strictly forbidden to explore the passageways, rooms and it's two thousand floors at night, for when I finally close my eyes, all of these dark thoughts living inside my mind come to life, granting shadows of the castle the same power, transforming them into sinister-looking; monstrous masses of darkness, eyes, impurity and undying will to chase down anyone unlucky to wander their home..

..so, my dearest guests and visitors, only venture out of your rooms once the hideous wall clock consisting of thirteen ashen serpents with coal-black eyes in the main hall signals the arrival of.. morning, as you mortals call that meaningless time of a day."

 

His eyes are open once more,  
a chance to safely explore has been granted,  
though the winged specters have been released,  
so that no laughter should ever echo  
in the hall of eternal nightfall,  
in which to the tunes macabre and distorted  
dance both the wicked and deceased.

Maerqwath Vor-Dremaris,  
the blackhearted one of so many ravens,  
Maerqwath Vor-Dremaris,  
bless the obedient with a mind's instability,  
for yours are the heavens of our dreams to darken.

 

Oerath: "Maerqwath Vor-Dremaris, also known as Father Madness and the Blackhearted One and most of all, Vórdrem, is/was Mógrah Dormiel's right hand. He changed his name after the downfall of his master, and returned to the World of Arcadianth to build his obscure castle atop it's highest mountain, Krallotneh, but he did not climb up there. With the speed of wind he ran along it's vertical wall, until he reached the top, which took him one full day. A true madman's way of conquering the mountain, of which top reaches all the way up to the coldly colorful kingdom of the cosmos.

There, he began his strangely dark work of creation, for after unsuccessfully attempting to overthrow the Guardians, he decided that it was his time to disappear from the face of the world and start it all anew. And in time, he would even try to rid himself off all the darkness and evil resting within his heart. All because of Mógrah Dormiel, for he was the one who corrupted Vórdrem's heart and mind with ideals of a madman and thoughts of a conqueror. Yet in the end, Mógrah was just a pawn.. of a far more greater being.

And in the end, he would indeed succeed, becoming a master of four things, which he always loved in life the most: ravens, pain, wind and whispers. Could he - in time - become the next fourth Guardian?"

 

Poetic Tale Arc XIII: Ilethriam's Insanity (The Shadowdancer's Forgotten Poem)

 

She smiles as she dances, blood all over her body  
of seething shadows celebrating, ever transforming.  
She touches the face of one of her male followers  
with her most pale; soft hands, only to drain him empty  
from inside, letting the shadows to claim his lifeless husk.

Shriek, crawl, then lose one's mind,  
Mother Darkness leads the way,  
all of the monsters worship her lightlessness,  
and wherever she walks.. Death follows her,  
and so do the wrongly resurrected ones.

 

(The Vortex-Eyed Toad-Faced Elder Chanters of Quaxalathen)

 

"O' Ilethriam Mag-Narakjelf,  
from you all the monsters gained their birth.  
O' Ilethriam Mag-Narakjelf,  
your will alone is enough to scorch  
any verdant piece of earth.

Your supremely dark  
time will come,  
your powers take us beyond  
the moon and the sun.

Starless be the sky for all eternity,  
a monstrous vortex opens up high,  
as all pleasant dreams merge together  
with the unholiness of your black infinity.

Bow before the queen of arachnids, demons,  
serpents, maggots and dancing shadows,  
she who bows to none, her existence is one with death,  
hiss like the blood serpent that you are,  
to be able to perform the wailing chants  
of a possessed woman in the grip of lunar fever,  
your black star of origin stares all the way  
into the depths of void, where gruesome tendrils  
guard it's monstrous form and sharpened edges.

Haekra umae Quaxalathen,  
trouzhoram eth prolagmerlein.

Drejath-ziin-oetrubakh-mouraizeeth!

Selathrumael kroeth nidasrask potreev,  
imetriaal okh ruugathiin!"

 

(Maerqwath Vor-Dremaris, Father Madness)

 

Maerqwath: "Nostreleth.. Ebsontheia.. Help me.. gather souls.. for a very special painting."

 

O' Mother Darkness, the undisputed queen  
of shadows, maggots and serpents,  
by your command, I shall pierce my flesh..  
with the blood red claw, and open the old way..  
of the starless sky, but first, in sight of the night's  
gloomy restlessness, I ask of you this..  
would you grant me a dreaded wish..  
gift me with a voice of true and utter malice,  
so that I could forever love darkness,  
forget sadness, it never existed in this life,  
with this otherworldly portion of your screeching might,  
I shall not fail you, your deathly word is to be my law,  
for this face of stone does not waver,  
and these bones are yours to break..  
yours alone.. Ilethriam.. Mag-Narakjelf.

 

Poetic Tale Arc XIV: Four Cursed Dreamscapes Make One

 

I. The Cavern of Soulless Summoners

 

A glowing black pearl rests upon an ominous-looking  
pedestal's silken pillow, while feathers of all colors  
keep swirling as a tornado in the air above.

This cavern ever so gloomy belongs  
to an ancient race of darkly gifted summoners,  
a leap of faith is suddenly made to walk up the stairs  
consisting of red stardust and purple moon haze.

And climbing those stairs.. takes.. a lot of time and effort,  
but to behold.. the ethereal; snow-white gates of a plane..  
only known.. to the demigod-level beings and solar dragons..  
whom gained their fiery births from the first living rays..  
of the phoenix-shaped sun of ashes and fate.

That, which began so long ago.. was never meant to end,  
in the silvery grey eyes of a soul incredibly strong,  
yet forever lost to the plane of mortals, things mundane  
always fade to black, never look back, give confusion a meaning,  
gift it with a strangely cosmic name.. not all of us can be sane..  
a mystical portal stone is activated.. in all silence of the universe..  
a most peculiar traveler; the ascended ghost of thousands  
of bone-chilling Winter days past.. must once again enter through..  
it's momentarily stable energy rift.. in order to realize the dream..  
to understand the chaos.. to visualize the outcome beforehand..  
is to reach a conclusion.. that the final form of torment in itself..

.. is to grab a falling; scarlet star  
of burning radiance with one's bare hands.

Study the ageless wisdom it possesses,  
the knowledge in itself may help you with the feathers,  
but the magic in question is old and powerful,  
three examples I shall now give to thee,  
who has come to far to pass such a dangerous test.

To be able to go through the tornado's protective field,  
one must touch seven black and thirteen white feathers,  
for this time other colors mean a sudden; gruesome death.

For example: the dark grey ones can turn your being into stone,  
the red ones can make your eyes bleed blood endlessly,  
and the purple ones.. a luminous punishment unlike any other..  
waters of all great starlit oceans merge together..  
with the feathers now forming a purple stream of infinite energy..  
a mortal soul turned into a fountain of unlimited water supply..  
a destiny about to meet it's end.. as the water keeps filling..  
the person keeps coughing.. with no other choice..  
than to allow oneself.. to be suffocated.. this cursed dream..  
it indeed heralds great doom.. yet I must see it through..  
for the sake of Xorposh.. and the beings..  
that from ever since the times so ancient..  
I have had the right to call..  
the truest vessels of celestial creation.

 

II. Serpent's Song of the Chaosborn

 

A gathering of lesser spirits  
unite with the bone-chilling  
force forever unseen,  
in a fleeting moment of obscurity,  
these light-hearted beings travel  
to archaic times of the starless temples,  
now long-since forgotten  
by any elder, creature or mortal.

The lunar seer's occultic vision  
churns with a green; impure light,  
as the last hissing monarchess  
shortens her follower's long journey  
of thirteen hundred thousand steps..  
closer to the dimension of true night.

Harmless-looking songbirds  
of death take flight,  
while the sleepless ones wander  
on under the bleeding sky,  
the three-eyed ravens  
carry out her dreaded wishes,  
seeing only red..  
as it was meant to be,  
for in her lightless service..  
free will is not required.

The skeletal claw of a key to damnation..  
blood of the chaosborn in a black; boiling goblet..  
seal the serpent's eleven hooded fates..  
the seeping curse of Nostreleth cannot be removed..  
from the deformed face of existence.

 

III. The Path of Insanity

 

Only the finest of sanguine silk..  
to adorn her shadowy; youthful form with,  
daily she bathes in the crystal fountain..  
full of life-devouring serpents of malice,  
the cathedral of death and unholy temptations..  
invites only those with hearts blackened,  
souls tainted, spirits broken..  
welcome.. to a place of worship most..  
dimensional, yet located deep underground..

..o' sweet Mother Darkness.. Ilethriam Mag-Narakjelf..  
the first chaosborn mistress of a witch..  
plays the hostess to vengeful spectres..  
and truly.. radiating is the lightlessness..  
that gloriously blinds the scene.. so undivine.

A portion of power.. stolen..  
through nebulous dreams from each Guardian..  
the cloud-tall olive-colored bell tower's..  
reverberating eleven knells lure..  
an horde of the resurrected fallen,  
humming the dead march on,  
and the light of chaos reflects  
from their twisted eyes..  
up into the web-woven sky ruled by arachnids.

A spell is read aloud from the book of storms,  
with astral strength of an experienced mind,  
six black and white pillars of marble stone  
are raised from underneath the earth,  
one fourth of overall Celestiality is required in order..  
to magically empower the pillars..  
with blue energy of the purest kind,  
the purpose of this journey: entrapment..  
of the wandering essence of night,  
to keep it alive within the six-horned circle..  
filled with the oceanic rage of Aquallenosh..  
all of the cursed dreamscapes: visited,  
outcome: the price of insanity.. is too high.

 

IV: The Faceless Chanters of Quaxalathen

 

Otherworldly-looking; carved rock totems arise  
from underneath the orange red sand,  
while many blue fires are lit,  
with the clearest; spectral-like smoke  
spiraling up towards the skies,  
many are the shapes it keeps taking,  
from a pitch-black wolf to a pale white sheep,  
from a crystal giant of the unfathomable deeps  
to a revered sky goddess, who sees all and even beyond,  
yet never weeps, for her paths are serene, untouched by madness.

The faceless chanters stand  
upon their separate platforms,  
dressed in their sanguine ceremonial robes,  
with their hands raised  
towards the blackening heavens,  
they are ready to speak out  
the repetitive rites of darkness and destruction,  
while being carried in the murky night air  
by a lurking mist of the dark primeval rulers,  
whom death cannot claim,  
devoid of all time, they lie imprisoned..  
in distant and dismal dimensions  
unknown to the mortal kind.

Haekra, umae Quaxalathen, egraviim..

Boegna-oth-yaressk!

Zalaruuth, iethe, brakheef..

Truug'hen avheya sikleef,  
kroth nalekhriin esthurrah.

Nostreleth, tzargothe, cablemne..

Itehlem-druakh-kag-dore-jireizeltha

Umekraveeth...  
Trehazdrevákh...

Ruuz-ewekriin-vemtraia!

Koogathrellen..  
astuum.. ekh..  
nidasrask.. potreev...

 

Now, you know her name.. dread..  
and wish.. of dark doom.. the dead..  
hum in her presence.. the moon..  
is too afraid to appear, for when..  
the heiress of darkness..  
nears.. all light of hope..  
disappears.

 

Maerqwath: "Dance on, shriek, crawl across the floor, for it is your screeching voice, which torments all the living. You are the blood serpent.. Ilethriam Mag-Narakjelf.. the third shard of origin.. void become flesh!"

 

Poetic Tale Arxc XV: The True Birth of Madness (of Maerqwath Vor-Dremaris)

 

I - Hear the Void's Sweet Calling

 

The Blackhearted Lord of Maggots,  
Maerqwath Vor-Dremaris,  
the second Dark Lord of Madness,  
father of untold numbers of monsters.

Lured deeply into the sanguine embrace of darkness,  
thought waves, inspiring words of encouragement,  
fall once, fall twice, fall into the nefarious depths  
for the third time, and the pit is to become ye torment,  
none has crawled out of there,  
their bloody nails broken on the walls,  
despairing the hands of rebirth reach out,  
as the true night finally falls!

 

Ilethriam: "I.. will.. break.. your.. will.. and then.. you shall.. become my adorable servant.. for the ends of times.. o' my chaotic lover.. Maerqwath..."

 

II - The True Birth of Madness

 

An ill prophecy of Zhicra tells about the fallen one,  
he whose alignment as a chaotic neutral being  
will one day give the Guardians the keys of victory  
in their battle against Ilethriam, the evil Queen of Shadows.

Vórdrem was his name in the past ages,  
but now that we have turned thousands of pages,  
his name has changed into that of Maerqwath Vor-Dremaris,  
the lord of shouts, ravens, pain, wind and whispers,  
the one and only Father Madness, the dark wanderer of Tha'kresis.

Stare, laugh and shout to death, there is no way out,  
once you go too close to him, whose thoughts are dim,  
far beyond for any mortal one to comprehend,  
whisper not, or you shall humbly welcome the end.

Return back from the dreaded demon dimension,  
spirit broken, be punished for ye malevolent actions,  
go through a fusion with the chained spirit of Mógrah,  
and fatefully become the Fourth Guardian of Arcadianth.

 

Maerqwath: "I am sorry, Master, but I.. have heard the void's calling. I must.. accept it's blessing. Her.. blessing. I cannot go back.. there is no return.. it burns.. Her tendrils.. you do not understand.. one day.. you will... see it... farewell."

 

O' Mother Darkness, the undisputed queen  
of shadows, maggots and serpents,  
by your command, I shall pierce my flesh..  
with the blood red claw, and open the old way..  
of the starless sky, but first, in sight of the night's  
gloomy restlessness, I ask of you this..  
would you grant me a dreaded wish..  
gift me with a voice of true and utter malice,  
so that I could forever love darkness,  
forget sadness, it never existed in this life,  
with this otherworldly portion of your screeching might,  
I shall not fail you, your deathly word is to be my law,  
for this face of stone does not waver,  
and these bones are yours to break..  
yours alone.. Ilethriam.. Mag-Narakjelf.'

 

III - Lore Moments, Short Duels

 

Curious to learn what kind of being could be so powerful, that it could corrupt Mógrah Dormiel's once so black, yet noble heart, mind and soul altogether, twisting his thoughts so much, that he would care for death and death alone. No life could bring joy to his unlightened existence anymore. There must be a way to reverse the curse, to undo what she did to him. That vile being, Ilethriam Mag-Narakjelf, she must pay for all the souls she has claimed as her own. Through bloodshed, she has made herself known to us Guardians, but I wonder.. was Zhicra aware of her final awakening, and if so.. why.. has he remained silent during all this time. Suspicious. Maybe those two.. share a past, for the Utmost Celestials never talk about the first age, the Age of Astral Realizations and Purposeful Creation. Something must have happened for Ilethriam to become so vengeful, bent on extinguishing all lights from the starry face of Xorposh. None is ready for a betrayal, especially, if the student is responsible for the betrayal. Vórdrem, like Mógrah, could not resist her charms and promises of power, and thus, he turned his back on Oerath Windsoul, yet the wind followed him still, for the pact that had once been made remained. It would take him more than hundreds of ages to find his way back from the shadows into the light of moon. Forgiveness can only be earned.. with endless cries of anguish fading into the black of night. One searing slash for each stolen life - aimed at the soul to cause unimaginable pain.

 

Oerath Windsoul walked towards Lord Maerqwath Vor-Dremaris, his feet and movements hastened by the might of northern wind, he feared not, as he stared back at Father Madness with a stare as equally dim, a feeling of fear began to creep up into Maerqwath's mind. He, who was not supposed to feel any fear, hesitated. Then, he unleashed his ultimate shout, hoping it would tear Oerath's being into pieces, but there the wanderer of time stood, unharmed, his body transformed into that of a dark draconian warrior. In a blink of an eye, Oerath had moved to right in front of Maerqwath.

 

Oerath Windsoul:

 

"Foolish student of mine. May thee feel the might of this punch, which is to shatter ye jaw, and bring you down into the bleeding ground!"

 

And then he punched Maerqwath so hard in the face, that to this day, his jaw and mouth remain disfigured and refuse to regenerate. And the massive shock wave created; an after effect of the punch shattered many isles and tore down trees from all around Aquallenosh, where the duel itself took place. It even made a rift into the fabric of it's pale sky. The realm is said to be the haven of legendary duels and ancient monstrosities, for every evil being Oerath has battled against and won, is chained unto the bottom/living in one of the underwater cities of entrapment. There is no escape from under the waves of cyan imbued with magic, unless the wanderer of time sets you free, you shall not see the daylight, o' servant of darkness. That is the supreme rule of Aquallenosh, the mightiest Ocean of Mysteries.

 

Poetic Tale Arc XVI: The First Three Daughters of Mother Darkness

 

Poem I: the Deformed Lady of Subjugation (of Shuenakhraviith)

 

The eternally feared three daughters of mother darkness  
do not calmly rest in Aknorrah's disturbed peace,  
they plague Ithalón and Ordaellon, the lands of weakness,  
where mortals dwell atrocities shall ne'er fully cease,  
as long as Ebsontheia, Nostreleth and Shuenakhraviith  
walk freely in the eternal night, fueled by hate,  
o' breather of poisonous fire under skies desolate,  
reddened by thine sight, conceits of deceit ye incubate.

Where only hungry black vultures, eyeless pterosaurs  
and deformed buzzards soar across the dead air,  
orange sand burning the sol of her feet, she pours  
a container full of venom from a serpent's lair,  
bony finger's flick, all is to be thoroughly cremated,  
listen to the hissing whispers of minds subjugated.

"I am Shuenakhraviith, the bringer of chaos and control,  
the Noxious Angel of Death, life's light is my toll."

 

Hataomkeresh, the Desert of Red I inherited,  
the first present of birth, wander there  
until you have experienced your first death,  
united in evil, undying wishes granted,  
beware of Hate, if she detects your lively presence,  
even if you had Ebsontheia's prescience,  
no divine interventions, all intentions burnt to a cinder,  
cure all diseases with fire, ashes on ye shoulders.

 

Ilethriam: "There she walks, Shuenakhraviith (Hate), the Deformed Lady of Subjugation, the horizon ablaze as her goal, for she is about to claw a tear in it, and forcibly enter through, her bones crunching as she twists the laws of space and time. All Six Greater Evils have their unique way of leaving the realm of Tha'kresis. Nostreleth (Death) uses a dark mirror portal (Iel'inshaer) to travel between dimensions, and there are many left in both Arcadianth and Terra. She is the maker of contracts, that all lead to inevitable deaths. You cannot escape her scythe, for she is finality itself. Ebsontheia (Evil) is one with the tempest of the universe. She travels as fast as a bolt of lightning strikes, yet always plots and schemes, and spends thousands of years studying different possibilities. Of darkly astral matters of the mind and foresight. Ebsontheia is rarely seen in Tha'kresis, for she is busy sighting into the future, and evolving, until her prescience shall one day become limitless!"

 

Oerath Windsoul: "Those, who choose to play and kill with fire, on either Arcadianth or Terra, are known as the sworn flaming disciples of Shuenrakh (the nickname Hate favors above all else). She is the patron of all the arsonists and pyromaniacs in existence. And she hates.. Mortals for merely being alive. Her dark power of will is the most strongest there is in the range of Tha'kresis, and none can lie to Hate, or corrupt her heart, for she has no heart, and is one with corruption itself. Deformed, decaying and enraged. Mentally tormented, beautifully deranged. When Shuenrakh was given a desert as a gift of birth, full of life, as an emerging demon, she looked at Ilethriam, her mother, and said only one word: 'Burn... ... ...', and with that, in a blink of her eyes, dancing flames engulfed the whole desert, dyeing it blazing red for all eternity."

 

Poem II: Of Ophidian Bloodstains and Blackened Bird Eyes (of Nostreleth)

 

Nostreleth: "Together, we shall use Krómelestriih, the Claw of Blood to open a vortex of the starless sky, allowing our great Mother Ilethriam the Abysmal One to enter through, in her final; upgraded, colossal water serpent form. Our dark; unique existences give her both physical and spiritual strength, as she feeds on our very essences, for after all, from her we gained death eternal. And to her, we shall return... in the cold end, if that is her wish.. darken the Xorposh universe... forever. Send the fleeting memory of a world called Arcadianth, and it's pitiful races; the heroic Mortal Kind, the shadowy Elves, the elusive Dwarves, the ancient Draeconaih, the mystical Wolviem and the unearthly Myastiemral, on an everlasting descent towards the expecting blackness, for all is to be devoured by raging energies of the void. No longer shall darkness bow to light, listen to the song of the eternal night. Beautifully deformed are the daughters of darkness. Finally united in evil, let the duels begin."

 

Three dreaded deaths for three dear daughters,  
differences cast aside, rejoined in bloodshed,  
blood moon, arise, midnight tempest, appear,  
fire feeds on hatred, a red desert living off fear.

 

I see a hollow ghost  
in the ebony demon mirror,  
a blank gaze of confusion  
on it's expressionless face,  
o' eyes of all hues of blue  
devoid of true sorrow,  
open the secret gates of a mind  
lost beyond the event horizon,  
safely enter through  
the flickering portal of sinister truths,  
challenge the broken laws  
of reality and madness,  
seek out the vestiges of a primeval creature,  
find it's lair, a living; revolving tunnel leading  
to the temple, wherein lies the well of eldritch wisdom,  
unlock and absorb it's long-since forgotten  
mucous data banks of knowledge older than the sky itself,  
and you shall be the one to awaken her eleven dead horsemen.

 

Ilethriam: "Zerégliathum, truug'hen omishkra zajalédrimein,  
Górbruujakh dakstriiah, ommae dekhraal jefrualthe,  
Aknorrah, Bag'hemirrah, Tzargothe, cablemne, siidramásh!"

 

Nostreleth, she who is called Death,  
the First Daughter of Mother Darkness,  
the Ceremonial Mask she received at birth,  
of ophidian bloodstains and blackened bird eyes.

 

Ilethriam: "There walks Death, taking three steps a second,  
calmly chasing a victim bound by a contract,  
her hand become the scythe, dragging it behind,  
the mask of ophidian bloodstains on her face,  
demonic birds, shadowy creatures without names,  
obscure dancing beings follow her twisted ways,  
cursing the daylight, sworn prowlers of the eternal night."

 

Poem III: Song of the Eternal Night

 

Hate (Shuenakhraviith) and Death (Nostreleth):

 

Do you ever wonder how this realm came to be?  
"All of those shadows are calling for our names..."  
Can you feel the embracing darkness of the moon?  
"Can you see the weeping spirits of those dead men?"  
Whose souls were stolen, whose dreams were slain.

Listen to the black wind,  
this biting coldness's melody,  
none of us are afraid.  
To die, my dearly ugly sister  
is our dreaded privilege,  
this path is genuinely sinister.  
A blood moon's scythe for Death,  
a midnight purple tempest for Evil,  
and a red desert ablaze for Hate.

Do you yearn for dark secrets and unsolved mysteries?  
"No denying the hungering will of the eternal night."  
Follow the Daughters of Darkness, the harvesters of souls.  
"Perform the blood serpent's rite, gifted with insight."  
I brought us here to hear voices of the broken.  
"Through Iel'inshaer portals I stalk, life as my token."  
There she walks with an emerald scythe in her hands.  
"The keeper of Aknorrah, the temple of black wands!"  
Where the remains of the Eleven Horsemen await.  
"A contract completed - a door to void - time's my bait."  
Can you see the lingering spirits of those dead men?  
"Whose souls were stolen, whose dreams were slain."  
Ebsontheia remains silent, then unexpectedly disappears.  
Queen Ilethriam: "Her lightning grants new shapes to fears."

 

Poem IV: In the Slithering Name of Evil (of Ebsontheia)

 

For long we followed  
the narrow paths,  
up the mountains  
we climbed,  
the valleys of black  
sand we crossed,  
until we dived  
into the sea  
of swirling landscapes,  
and then all we saw  
were withering trees  
sunlit of tangerine  
about to burst  
into violent torrents  
of black flames.

The hungry waves of sanguine darkness  
devouring our kind, the essence of light lost,  
dark side of a once heavenly paradise awaits,  
oh why we followed our empty dreams this far?

This path of eldritch knowledge  
burns one's inner being,  
the harsh truth is learned  
through an ancient vortex awakening,  
far away walks..  
a wandering; one-eyed dragon seeress,  
muttering eerie words  
in the Bhakrateskian tongue,  
sending them to fly in the air,  
forming a tornado  
of ink imbued with blood  
and the magical powers of her mind,  
creating a dark blue rift..  
leading all the way to the Higher Heavens.

Entakrellazh...  
Melaakh'riinezeth...  
Górbruujakh...

Evil has always been cunning,  
within the storm of storms she hides,  
in it's eye stands her castle tall and gothic,  
atop it's main tower's rim she can be seen  
performing a chant of unholiness,  
o' Serannah, the Serpent Witch of Storms,  
the Second Daughter of Mother Darkness.

 

The Elder Chanters of Quaxalathen:

 

"Serannah Ebsontheia Mag'risha,  
the sly plotting one with endless prescience,  
Serannah Ebsontheia Mag'risha,  
in the slithering name of Evil..  
put the mask of dreadful reverence on..  
Górbruujakh, ommae, mouraei, vradeshriik!"

 

Ebsontheia and Nostreleth:

 

"Welcome to my home, to the gallery of darkness and lies  
captured in paintings of the hall of emptiness and demise,  
mine is a tongue of poison, my ways are dim and ruthless,  
I am the face of every mirror portal, I am the serpent's truth!"

 

Even the acolytes desire  
for the legend,  
their hunger never ends,  
the skeletal abominations,  
your flesh is most wanted,  
the mere thought of your sudden arrival  
leaves most minds haunted,  
in shadows you wait  
for a right day to arrive,  
when all rivers red go silent,  
only then your true splendor will shine,  
from within the storm of storms  
you will beautifully sing  
into the black of night,  
the thunderous tower of black infinity  
still stands mighty and tall,  
may the night never fall  
in your dismal eyes of doom,  
enter the garden of hopelessness  
and deathly dreams come true,  
where only the flowers black,  
thorny and venomous..  
are allowed to bloom.

 

Story Fragment I: Ilethriam's Insanity Begins

 

Queen Ilethriam: "Shuenakhraviith, my dearly deformed daughter, whisper them horrifying secrets, tell them cruel lies, mess up with their mortal minds, for you are Hate. You live to corrupt, to control and to dominate. Gather an army of the unwilling, cry for them, and let the poison tears of acid melt their faces, deform them forever and forge them into true instruments of plagues and curses. This is my will, now kneel before me, o' third Daughter of Darkness. Rise of The Six Greater Evils shall herald the end for the world of Arcadianth! The dark seeresses have all spoken. None shall stand in my way this time.. not even.. Them."

Shuenakhraviith: "Your will shall be done, o' slithering mother, I bid to take my leave. I do not wish to stay near Nostreleth or Serannah. Such malicious beings. Always taking their time to do their things. Contracts and plots that last through hundreds of ages. I wish to work alone, for I have a personal reason. There is a being, who treads in the night and watches over the travelers by using the moon's light, that which she is, and has always been and will always be. The queen of their graceful nights, she who walks her life's path alone, yet chooses to let mortal women become her apprentices. It is Xaié, who I must defeat. I too, am of the night, always walking where nothing is alight. She must die, mother, yet I feel.. that I have to be patient about this one. Meanwhile, who would you wish to be corrupted next, turned to a puppet, willing to serve our evil cause?"

Jumping out of the bottomless fountain full of blood of the innocent, like a flying fish, Ilethriam lands perfectly on the cathedral floor covered with the same blood, lifts a long red cloth from the floor, and ties it around her waist, saying:

 

Queen Ilethriam: "What a joyously grim question, there is actually one being who you must corrupt, and that is.. Vórdrem. Lead him.. to me. Drink this unearthly tonic, it shall increase your magical abilities beyond imagining, so that once you manage to locate him, and make contact, by touching him in some manner, use the transfer of thought waves, and mimic my voice. I want.. thousands of whispers, no, more than tens of thousands, no.. I see.. even more! Make him.. mad. I taught you how to do that, so I have every confidence you will succeed in this most daring and dark task. Go now, my daughter. United in evil, that cannot be killed, which was born to die, time after time. Until we meet again."

 

Smirking, Shuenakhraviith leaves with the black doors of Krialdinzekh, the ancient cathedral of darkness closing behind her, whispering in a most eerie manner:

"Consider it done, mother, consider it done, mother, for I am Hate. They shall fear the fate of fire I cast upon them, and grovel before my deformed existence, even though my face.. is not as ugly as Nostreleth's. I shall be going now, going forward. Ever so forward.. In Death.. Hate... Hate... Hate... ha... ha... ha..."

 

Miscellaneous/Important Tha'kresis Lays of Lore

 

Lay I: All Hail the Lord of Chaos

 

He is a cruel tyrant unlike any other..  
He is the one, who commands the entire legions of the damned  
With terrifying power, he ruthlessly maintains the order..  
Over this restless horde, called army of the undead..

And on the edge of a dark mountain he stands  
Giving orders to the immortal soldiers, who wait down below  
There's so much blood on his rotten hands  
Yet none to challenge his might, and before him you too shall bow..  
In the name of death and destruction, all hail the lord of chaos!

He's a brother to Death, one of the Daughters of Darkness  
And together they execute some of his evil plans  
His increasingly unstable mind is hanging by a thread of madness..  
And thus he sees nothing, but ultimate devastation and death beyond limits waiting at the end of his path!

And like always, on the edge of a dark mountain he stands  
Fully clad in black; demon forged armor  
Wielding a cursed two-handed sword, one which devours on bone, flesh and souls  
A fragile vial containing blood of the untold millions rests in his rotten hands..  
Is there none to overthrow him from his high iron throne..  
'Cause for now, all we can say is, all hail the lord of chaos!

The insane ways of this bringer of death, he truly has a dark calling..  
And rest assured... Wherever there is reported being a bloody massacre  
You can be sure it is all his doing..  
For he loves nothing more, than eternal suffering on this tainted earth..

And above the boiling surface of the lake of fire, he floats in the sky..  
Smoke and flames spiral up high..  
In his presence, even the sun is powerless, losing her gleaming light..  
To the great evil alone, which those who now behold him see burning brightly in his red eyes..  
And so he gives the final command..  
Set the skies ablaze, scorch the land!  
For there is no return..  
Everything is destined to burn..  
In this world..  
Only the accursed..  
Shall roam..  
From now on..  
All hail..  
Destruction..  
the new Lord of Chaos!

 

Lay II: The Deformed Goddess (of Corruption)

 

Cold it is - the way she brings fire and destruction on burning wings  
She's the real angel of death, she could kill you without wasting a single breath  
This life is how she chose it to be, and thus I wander these empty streets  
In truth, we're waiting for our time  
Lost in the night, ready to be sacrificed!

Into our minds she plants images  
Through hate and corruption she influences  
Our lives, we're barely hanging by the thread  
One more careless step and we'll end up dead

Cruel are her diabolic ways, chaos is the word of today  
Ruthless and malevolent, she is the bringer of the end  
Ground is shaking beneath our feet, is this just another bad dream?  
No it's not, for she is finally here..  
Remember.. "In death you shall feel no fear."

Into our minds she plants images  
Through hate and corruption she influences  
Our lives, we're barely hanging by the thread  
One more careless step, and we'll end up dead

The deformed goddess of corruption!  
The unholy mistress of lies and damnation..  
And the sweet melody of slaughter plays on and on..  
In her eternal presence, all thoughts become unknown..

Into our minds she plants images  
Through hate and corruption she influences  
Our lives, we're barely hanging by the thread  
One more careless step, and we'll end up dead

 

Lay III: Wanderer of the Dark Lands

 

On the rim of a high cliff, surrounded by darkness, wanderer of the dark lands shouts into the black of night, guided by the wind, his screams echo across the sky, basking in light of the moon, he casts the runes unto the snowy ground and begins his great work of twilight!

The cold stars shine upon him, as he speaks out the forbidden incantations, his very words radiate ancient might, he is in the embrace of evil.. for long have the dead awaited for their merciful savior in their forgotten graves covered with the frost of eternity..

The shadows do not sleep, nor feel remorse or forgiveness, the night is cold and dark, but to him it means nothing.. the dead march once again, snow is to be covered in blood, and oh that great reward.. which wanderer of the dark lands shall receive.. from this unforgettably cruel act of brutality..

He simply watches, as everything around him withers and dies, the trees dry their dryness, the sky splits in a half, chaos of it all is overwhelming.. and the black flames of death now lick every village and every building.. as wanderer of the dark lands walks onward with an horde of dead marching right behind him..

 

Maerqwath: "All lakes and rivers are filled with flesh and blood.. a laughter of evil now echoes across the empty sky.. covered in ash lie the lands, and in exile are those.. who were spared, and left to spread the message of the dead..."

 

Lay IV: And She is called Death...

 

Gruesome, unearthly paintings and macabre statues everywhere  
Blood on the carpets, broken finger nails and scratches on the walls  
You may know of this one house  
But the question is, do you dare to go in there  
And find out what all of those stories really are about?

Because from what I've heard..  
That house is said to be the cradle of agony and death  
They also say it's a journey, from which no man has ever returned back alive...

So enter, and you'll find yourself lost in the birthplace of all that is evil  
Where such creatures of darkness, like vampires, demons and werewolves are very real..  
If you go there, you may find more than you had bargained for..  
For there you may even..  
Die and lose your physical form for eons untold..

For in that dark, dark house..  
Lives a eternally young woman of true beauty  
And even one single glance at her will surely drop  
Anyone's heartbeat from it's normal rhythm to absolute zero  
But do not be deceived, for she is a vile snake in disguise  
Hiding in reflections, shadows and sometimes even within glass  
An ancient being, blacker than the night  
And the reason to why She is called Death..  
Is because she truly is that deadly mistress of evil you see in the mirror..  
Just before you're about to lose the last light of your life..  
From midst calming silence of the darkness..  
You suddenly hear a sound of steel..  
And so finally swings the scythe..

 

Lay V: O' Mother Darkness, the Dead.. Wish to Dance.. Once More..

 

A graveyard ridden with an eerie presence of vicious silence,  
the ravens residing over in the murky yard cry tears of blood in penance,  
as the bells of doom are ringed to signal the coming event,  
an unholy and despairing moment,  
upon of which arrival macabre as a word shall be an understatement,  
for it is so, that tonight many graves.. will be digged up,  
so that those long-since dead.. could finally dance,  
and may their six hour long march of fate not be stopped,  
while being dressed in their ragged, yet elegant clothes,  
radiating is their dreadful elegance,  
as they keep summoning specters most deformed in their wake,  
this magnificently cold and rainy night belongs to them, o' Mother Darkness,  
let these lost dwellers of the realm of true lightlessness  
have their final wish of walking upon the realm of the living..  
once more in time for your darkly divine sake.

 

Lay VI: The Lone Dancer of Bones.. A Nether Journey

 

A crucial task there was to be completed,  
before the artifact would become fully depleted,  
the sphere of visions burns with delight in the hands of higher grace,  
it's powerful black light most inviting.. is this.. to save my doomed race?

No thoughts to form a pattern, the lone dancer of bones lost in the darkness,  
brought from a place unknown to the sanguine stars of this day, a dream's briefness  
it is to change into something so much more, that when echoing arrive the whispers,  
you.. there.. I.. nowhere, raging energies blended, cast out.. to join.. the cosmic drifters.

A captivating journey prolonged, once.. I longed.. for celestial greatness,  
yet always belonged.. to the void, where they would not speak.. of sadness,  
a force so meaningless, capable of turning one faceless, no trust.. I.. must..  
release.. release.. unleash.. unleash.. nothing to prepare me for..  
it was never.. an error.. someone had to.. descend.. the nether plane..  
so.. feverish.. how long.. awaited.. over.. o' aeons.. was it all.. in vain.

 

Lay VII: All Wings Scaly Clap Mighty At the Sight of the Crimson Colored Dawn's Awakening

 

The river of strange echoes and haunting voices I crossed,  
it's wooden bridge collapsed behind me, then a coin of fate and blood  
into the well of infinite mysteries without hesitating I tossed,  
wishing the moon's color to be changed, and all light to vanish for good.

And there I sat alone  
in the dimmest existing clearing,  
the trees kept whispering around me,  
I listened, observed,  
then after a long time,  
a choir of screeching sounds was heard  
from the depths insanely deep,  
the once so shining moon of pale solace  
will soon change her colors to crimson, and finally start to weep.

Let her tears red, chaotic and colossal fall against the ground,  
tearing the land asunder together with the sky's dark thunder.

Then suddenly.. arose thousands of vampiric bats blood-thirsty from the well,  
nearly unbearable was to be in the center of those high-pitched noises,  
though nothing could ever prepare anyone for the horrors that dwell  
down there in it's widely undiscovered depths, yet still, my heart rejoices..  
for now, I do possess the means of whether how to make the long descent,  
and finally.. here among the primeval ones, I shall be granted the keys of judgment..

..those of my own.. because..

 

Maerqwath: "All wings scaly clap mighty at the sight of the crimson colored dawn's awakening."

 

Lay VIII: Vórdrem, the Blackhearted Lord of Maggots

 

The wind followed him still,  
for nothing could undo  
the Pact of Whispering Secrets,  
such is the sheer grandeur of will,  
which makes the existing planes tremble,  
until arrive the trumpet players  
undeath and skeletal,  
dressed in ragged; grey robes,  
bloodied are their bony instruments.

 

Maerqwath: "And they have come to conduct the dark theme of my supremely swift arrival."

 

Memories darkly astral,  
lost beyond all hope,  
ancestral is this dream,  
yet up into the glimmering heights  
leads a rope ridiculously long,  
yet the climb must once again be made,  
for among my master,  
Mógrah and the hideous  
eye-socketless; deformed goddess  
of black hate and insanity I belong.

The betrayer of the forces good,  
yet always fragile..  
I am Vórdrem, the Blackhearted Lord of Maggots.

 

Lay IX: Mysteriously Gloomy.. Indeed.. Is the Nether Realm..

 

Mysteriously gloomy.. so hollow..  
giant tree trunks.. hide inside..  
more than one thousand eyes..  
looking out into the crop field  
of scarecrows and carved pumpkin heads..  
all we ask for is lightning.. fire from the skies..  
resurrection through demise..  
the pumpkins have now grown legs to themselves..  
the wandering scarecrows are friends with the greedy crows..  
mysteriously gloomy.. it was meant to be..  
for more than an eternity..  
let the wind bring ice..  
the storm clouds to crush the earth below with..  
souls to be clawed.. out of their bodies..

There I sat in deep thoughts,  
embracing the darkness,  
overwhelming was the joy.

Reminiscing a time long past,  
a trust once misplaced,  
as a choir came the screeching whispers,  
it damaged my very soul, and my voice was utterly destroyed.

Obscure became the vision,  
during which the nether realm's faeries and dragons  
spoke of my anciently dark fate,  
and ever since interestingly strange  
and troubled have been all my dreams of late.

Follow the Black Starfall Path, said the faeries,  
travel three hundred thousand miles  
to the unexpected North, the dragons,  
yet the third choice always exists, but either option I choose,  
should my cries.. of help during the journey.. all stay unanswered,  
then I shall become a drifter.. for more than aeons.

I decided to first follow the faeries,  
they led me extremely high upward,  
and for the first time in many centuries,  
my thoughts darkened and clarified transported  
me to the place my memory had for a reason tried to forget,  
yet I always knew this gloomy day would eventually arrive,  
and that I would once again in time have to choose the blackest  
of all paths of streams of stars for the world of dreams to collapse,  
all is to end in distorted screams repetitive and anguished.

The dragons kept talking in whispers from beyond the beyond  
to keep me awake during the flight of one's psyche,  
never swing the dedicated harvester's scythe in my presence,  
to the North I must travel, even if the land itself is full of peril,  
of it's ever frozen gifts in form of harmonious pain my heart shall revel.

Hands forming chakra, a spirit's ascending,  
meditation has always been the practise of death.  
Lands faraway visited, no limitations to chain the mind with,  
many secrets may the astral art of rushing waves of garnet blood unearth.

Bring forth the fountain  
in the shady garden of belladonnas,  
it filled with the mysterious watery force  
of this lucid dreamer's forbidden way  
of living the supernatural one at the birth of dawn,  
born with god-like vision realm sight  
and otherworldly strange abilities,  
never burn my truest eye,  
o' sun of the infernally orange skies,  
for here higher above, yet ever down below  
walks a dark wanderer untouched by all cares and lies.

 

Maerqwath:"Mysteriously gloomy indeed is the nether realm. A home to many enslaved lesser spirits."

 

Lay X: All it takes is one single stare.. (down Into the Abyss)

 

In the abyss dwelt the beings primeval in all silence,  
awaiting for their undivine turns, as the great wheel of infinite time and space  
was about to be spun once more by the utmost higher ones,  
who long have ruled the universe from within the void of shadows.

Many colors left the world to take off into the skies, pale and hollow, nothing was meant to be for a long lifetime, until the darkest sorrows gave birth to a gift in form of the endless rains of midnight blue snow.

And may the reddest sunlight of the end times shine,  
once the light's avatar of truth hangs by the gallows.

All said and done, yet one last deed left undone, time begone,  
lost is given a new meaning, each time a new unholy realm is found,  
in the hall of a burning one, lightning is swift, second to none,  
for somewhere echoes a disturbingly humming sound,  
a time-worn lever is pulled, and so disappears the entire ground.

Once down, may it reappear,  
impossible to hear, too silent is the end,  
tomorrow is one with so many doubts,  
it has always been that way, only today to defend,  
I stand proud at the doors of past and future,  
present and all between, not daring to stare into the abyss again,  
for through it's madness so many eerie things these eyes have seen.

 

Maerqwath: "May only the master of this house of the mysterious and unexplainable open this olden chest full of darkly crystallized timelessness of the cosmos and black shrieking tulips of the Elders."

 

Lay XI: All Prayers Shall Die Tonight

 

Bleed, bleed  
for the moon that once shone,  
heed, heed  
the abysmal one's echoing words.

Bleed, bleed,  
a heart's cold, bones broken,  
heed, heed  
the call of hungry blackbirds.

None treads everywhere is night,  
all of her shadows have been freed,  
we are not the followers of light,  
ours is the path of help those in need of evil!

All prayers shall die tonight!

Mother Darkness grieves  
the loss of her unholy children,  
while Father Madness stirs in the minds,  
ever confusing the thoughts and dreams of men.

All she lost were the dancing shadows,  
the most precious ones she ever had!  
And this is the future belongs to her and her alone,  
for after all, it is a sign of weakness to be sad!

All prayers shall die tonight!

She wishes a cloak of doom upon us all,  
it is her final night of gifts, which shall soon fall,  
all prayers were always meant to die tonight,  
Mother Darkness will soon forever blacken the sky.

 

Lay XII: All according to the Mother Night's wishes

 

The veins of both hands have been cut,

the way of forbidden truths is no longer shut,

for the gates have been opened with blood elder and fated,

malevolent spirits awakened,

when the six ancient sepulchres were desecrated,

knowledge in itself became fire,

as darkness began to feed on wicked mortal desires,

you play with madness only once,

after you lose the last chance

to walk away from midst the never-ending night,

one wrong word written unto the book of the unlightened,

and the mists of despair will forever cloud one's vision sight,

the eyes gone pale, soul unstable,

prepare to inhale the scorching winds

of dismal choices, while the heart of all evil rejoices,

what is left of light completely vanishes,

as the seekers of no amends

prepare to turn the clouds into ashes,

all according to the Mother Night's wishes.

 

Lay XIII: Let Void Become the New Sky

 

She stood there with her black eyes glowing,  
besides the tombstones of her own graveyard,  
the ravens kept flying in circles above,  
they knew of her arrival beforehand,  
a moment of destined dark splendour,  
and so the twisted energies open wide..  
the doors of an ancient church,  
which well below the ground leads,  
boldly descend, show no signs of fear,  
the nightmare witches with whispering voices,  
be wary of them when you are finally down there..  
for they worship Mother Darkness and her dreaded might,  
let void become the new sky, the night is to be eternal,  
as even the elder chanters and their summoned monsters  
kneel before her unholy being, as she enters the final chamber.

She hears void calling,  
in many shapes it keeps appearing to her,  
she feels void's presence growing  
deep within, while the world she once knew  
keeps rapidly decaying around her,  
seething shadows now cover her entire body!

 

Maerqwath: "The dying embers of my former life I leave to your barren care to wither even more, for this place is my graveyard, these bones I gathered, when the hellish stones of wrath fell from high.. to greet the lightless one, and there I shrieked in agony, as the burning chariots of hope coldly passed me by, leaving me alone to stare down into the heart of all emptiness. Void."

 

Lay XIV: A Dream Imbued With Blood

 

Oerath Windsoul and Queen Ilethriam:

 

"Even with my both eyes closed, I saw the shadowy beings obscure and faceless dancing about me, of which some were only lingering there, gazing. I felt a touch of the abyss itself, then I just chose to let go, crossing the border, I found myself lost in a completely new world or plane of existence. If all roads and pathways disappear behind you as you walk, then you truly are travelling the way of no return, for the will to learn can burn down many things. Always prepared to fall down from the edge of a mountain.. to be able to.. use one's giant wings. Under a thousand watchful eyes, I sought out many eldritch temples, knocked on many black doors, always to find myself back at the beginning, wondering, losing the grip to what once was, sitting there, in front of the fleshly gates of the Elders shunned by all the living, time feels so.. distorted; hauntingly nonexistent.

Lost. lost.. lost... is given a new meaning, each time a realm in the abyss has been discovered.. by a darkly faithful one."

 

Nostreleth: "A walker in the night,  
a being of flesh in sight,  
the inherited hunger grows,  
a thirst most unquenchable,  
the shadows treat me as their child,  
and whenever I am able,  
through the wishes of my creators,  
I live to study the forbidden arts  
of outer plane traveling and spirit communicating,  
I seek a higher path leading to the lost garden  
of blood magic imbued diamonds,  
shrieking; black tulips  
and silenced screams of the petrified.

It is there, where I shall read the last ritualist's emerald book,  
hoping my existence to become one with it's dim pages.

Begin the rite of a dreadful summoning,  
repeat the unhallowed words:

forever dead during the day..  
only alive during the night..  
here I fare, never feeling fear, for I am Death..  
the nocturnal seeker of knowledge..  
let one's thoughts darkened cloud the vision of moon..  
for the dream is imbued with blood..  
and since darkness is redemption..  
it is so, that the wicked should always..  
find their way back.. to the misty land of soul eaters.

This is how a dream..  
is gently imbued with blood..  
here the dead do not scream..  
they only hum.

I am Death, she who does not knock, watch me dance, hear me mock. Blood flows, wherever I go. The shadows follow me, for I became their precious child.. thousands of ages ago."

 

Ilethriam: "Since Evil is forever,  
and Death is ever eternal,  
all is to end in darkness  
despairing and infernal."

 

Lay XV: Mother Darkness's Lightlessness

 

Loneliness, ages and void's emptiness,  
a young; black-eyed woman's holiness  
changed it's shape entirely, when she claimed..  
the shadows as her own, and after finding..  
the first Dark Lord, (Mógrah Dormiel)  
Six Greater Evils they ushered  
unto the surface of existence.

O' lightlessness, anguish seething,  
the serpent's cauldron of doom  
is boiling, it is filled with bones..  
flesh and blood, a piece of the purple  
star ocean she once with her presence alone  
corrupted, when only for a while..  
Mother Darkness lingered in safety  
of the Higher Heavens, (Entrakrellazh)  
until the Mother of Celestial Beauty..  
sent her back with the gift of teleportation..  
to the birthplace of darkness..  
the demonic dimension of Tha'kresis.

Mother Darkness's lightlessness,  
it always blinds, it always finds  
those, who it is supposed to.. cause..  
fall.. into delirium.. in Nostreleth's house..  
of eldritch blood rituals.. and endless horror.

 

Lay XVI: The Twisted Union of Darkness & Madness

 

Drink from the chalice of elder blood,  
and you shall become a faceless god,  
those words of thorns were spoken,  
and I, the maddened, blindly listened.  
No trust to be given, only twisted love,  
here, embraced in her black; clawing arms,  
I seek for morbid solace, abundant in obscenity,  
to accept her cold feelings greatly disarms,  
for she is Mother Darkness of sinful flexibility,  
the truest corrupter of noble men left to starve.  
O' guileful breaker of limbs and bones,  
keeper of graveyards, where the hellish stones  
once fell upon a moonless and lightless night,  
when a vortex opened, and tore the land from sight.

 

Additional Content: The Lords of Darbeian/The Birth of Vim'aelesh

 

Act I: The Beginning of the End

 

Once upon a dark time, a mythical race of higher beings called: 'The Lords of Darbeian', found their otherworldly mysterious way to the quiet galaxy of Vim'aelesh. And while other forms of life were merely at the dawn of their history, these beings had already traveled among the stars for untold billions of light years, journeying forth from galaxy to another in search of a suitable planet, upon which they could finally settle down, and build there a new; glorious kingdom. And like it was meant to be, they finally found one very interesting planet in a small galaxy soon enough. It was a strange one indeed, for in it's space it only had one gigantic; dark blue colored planet, of what three mystically glowing green rings surrounded.. And almost next to it, still nearly nine hundred thousand light years away, seemed to be a horrible rift in the very fabric of space and time. A most abnormal, and dark entity they came to call: 'Maw of the Abyss'. It's existence, however, did not then even seem to concern them, for there was no thing called fear, and in their awe and might they wouldn't ever have to draw energy from such a vile thing. And it was therefore chosen, that the black mass of darkness, eyes and teeth would be left untouched, for the planet they had chose was so rich in everything, that what need they had for whatever powers the thing could possess, if anything at all. They now had forests, lakes, hills, lands, mountains and oceans, and plenty of material. Was there even a need for anything else? They had finally found a new home for themselves. There, however, already lived a primitive race called 'the Mortal Kind', but they seemed to accept the arrival of these new beings with a warm heart back then.. Though how could've they known what an error it would be.. For in time.. Everything..

Would be brought down to the ground.. Let me ask this of you. Some of them started to feel it an temptation far too great to leave Maw of the Abyss untouched. So, what would've you done in their place, I wonder..

Would you have torn the whole planet asunder, shattered it to three large pieces, and then transformed each of them dramatically to your own end? Would you have turned against your own kind, and then enslaved the rest, robbed them off their physical forms, and devoured on their very existence!?

 

'No.. I don't believe you could do such a thing.. I can see it from your eyes.. Your innocence in this matter.. Is pure..'

'Oh, how I wish there was a way to restore this planet to it's former glory.. Sadly there currently is none.. So right now, our days are dark and full of unspeakable doom.'

'Some plans are just bound to fail.. I mean, more power is indeed more power.. Why shouldn't we ask from that Maw over there for help.. Maybe it'd let us draw energy from itself.. Just for a little while..'

'How things ever even reached this point? Well, at first..'

 

The whole nature of the planet flourished, everything was right in the world, and for five thousand years, the Lords lived in peace together with the Mortal Kind. But then one day, it all suddenly changed for worse. In all secrecy, a circle of three lords had been formed over course of the long years. Three Lords, who shared same ideals and ambitions too great. And little did the others know of this.. But what in the existence could've corrupted those three.. Well, what other than 'Maw of the Abyss', for there was always more to the cursed thing, than meets the eye. It had sensed the growing temptations of those three, and thus it had kept appearing to them in their visions and dreams for hundreds of years. It was always about more power, so it sure knew what it was offering. Influence, corruption and power.

And they surely didn't do much to turn down it's most generous offer. The sluggish thing seemed almost happy to let them use it's dark energy. But sooner than they even realized it, they were addicted to it. And so it slowly found it's way into their minds, and began to feed on their thoughts, darkening their picture about the world, and how it should look, be, everything.

So, even in it's in-active state, it had managed to corrupt them rotten of core, and empty their minds off all reason and emotion. And it continued to give them more power, until they had become so drunk of it, that they now saw only eternal dominance over the Mortal Kind ahead of them. Destruction would be their only option. And so it was decided, that all three would take physical forms, and use bodies of the Mortal Kind to make themselves complete. And they wouldn't just settle to break a few of them. They would all be reduced to exist as mere spirits, divided into two categories: Greater and Lesser, of which some of Greater would even become the demigods of these three self-proclaimed gods, who now ruled supreme over all.

And speaking of today, chaos still rules in this unnamed world, which was shattered a long time ago. It's three realms have slowly been re-designed, of which each is now guarded by numerous Chaotic Greater Spirits, demigods of the Three Abysmal Lords, who in all their greatness even took to themselves these following names and titles: Daernath of Crystal Rain, Caeron of Lost Stars and Thaeros of Timeless Moon.

Do not forget these names. They are your enemies.

And these are the Divided Realms, that now form what was once called the world:

Valorev'iil - the Tormented Realm of the Spirits  
Sar'thoekath - the Chaotic Fire Realm of the Three Abysmal Lords  
Faer'lokhen - the Collapsed Realm of the Lords of Darbeian

Each of them rules over one of the mentioned realms, or planets, and though they visit one another's realms from time to time, Sar'thoekath still serves as the main base of all their operations. It is also a home to some Greater spirits. All of the realms, rich in detail, were designed to uphold a myth about the three being gods, who could never be vanquished. And so, great temples were built in each of the three realms among other magnificent structures of unearthly stone in their honor, for what other choice did we even have back then..

But by now, you must already be wondering what truly happened to the Lords? Well, let me tell you something.. About the swift War of the Naetherlin, in which the future of Darbeian was settled once and for all.

The actions of Daernath, Caeron and Thaeros were quickly noticed, once they began to show significant signs of absence in their important meetings. And not long after that, the Abysmal Lords already began their swift, and all powerful attack. And the war itself didn't last for long, for they had gained so much power from Maw of the Abyss, that they easily broke the Lords of Darbeian, and then trapped them inside a long dream of eternity. A cursed state, one from which there is only one way to break free.. The realm itself must be destroyed by a being equal in power to the one, who cast the spell in the first place. In this case, whom, 'cause there were three of them. So, who could possess such power other than those three now? And the Lords never really died.. They're just trapped inside that dream, waiting for a miracle to occur.. Struggling to get out, but they just can only watch.. As their once beautiful world is being torn apart piece by piece..

And so the war had indeed ended before it had even began, and in the hour of their triumph and victory, Daernath, Caeron and Thaeros assured to all of the remaining spirits of Darbeian, that they would rule wisely and peacefully from now on, but like every two-faced snake, all of the three lied. How could we possibly forget..  
And even though they indeed continued to shape the lands anew, their souls had now been fully corrupted by dark energy of Maw of the Abyss.. They would come to pay for all of this.. They'd even want it all be forgotten.. Sure they would..  
Things won't end up well for any of us, if they're given more time. I have no other choice, but to quickly set my cunning plan in motion.

 

"My name is.. Agravyn. And fear not, I may not recall all of my memories, but I still remember this for certain though. Iused to be the high warrior priest at the temple of Daernath of Crystal Rain in the Realm of Sar'thoekath.

I.. oh yes, how could I forget to mention something like that. In the end, I guess there is only one person, who could save us. But she is far from done walking her path; the dream she chose to conquer.. so long ago."

 

Act II: Memories of Agravyn the Fallen

 

Our days were so cold.. Our bodies so weak and old..  
No matter how many times we tried to escape..  
His greater spirits; those shadows wouldn't let us leave..  
Their screams made our eyes to bleed..  
The whispers made us see frantic nightmares..  
We were blinded by his bottomless power..  
Darkness took hold of our minds..  
Yes.. We tried to escape many times..  
Did I already tell you that.. Yes.. I think I am mad..  
I learned to battle it.. I learned.. I fought with bravery..  
Until I finally succeeded..  
And so I finally found a way to release  
Myself from their seemingly eternal grip..

I now truly remembered I had a child..  
A daughter, and I know what has become of her..  
I need to resurrect her spirit with my powers..  
And give her a new form.. But in the process,  
I shall be reduced from Greater to Lesser in status,  
thus I'll lose my power over visions and dreams..  
This is, however, a sacrifice I am willing to make..  
Because I am going to transfer all of my abilities to her..  
For long ago, she told me that she would one day  
help the Lords of Darbeian break free from their dream..  
She said she would be the one to awake them,  
and that she would become a goddess in order to do so..  
I say.. Her time.. Has come.. At long last..

And so, with all my strength and heart, I brought her spirit back to life, and took her to a secret place, a temple concealed with a cloak of spirit magic. And there one of my only friends and allies, the Emerald Maiden from the Temple of Timeless Moon helped her to fall into a dream of eternity. And I hope, that in time, she'll learn how to control her new abilities, and manage to locate and free the Lords of Darbeian, who would then together rise to fight for the future of our broken world.

So as of now, she is our best hope.

 

Act III: She Who Would Reign Over the Dream

 

They try to stop you from dreaming, my child.. They want to end the flow of time.. And blacken the moon..  
They want to silence the messenger.. Let his face touch the burning sky.. Eternal suffering..  
Even if they come for you.. You won't die.. Your blood is a gift.. A locked secret, missing it's only key..  
Would they ever dare to harm you? I believe so.. Just open one of the thousands of doors of your dreams.. And walk..  
But if you fall into the depths of the mare.. Then you're in grave danger.. Do you know the location of the temple of lost stars? Please, imprint an image of that location into my mind, for there's no need to go back..  
There shall be no return.. Do you hear me..  
Do you hear the cries of all those black crows? They are ready to follow your lead..

None of dark beings of the abyss deserve to live the lives, that we were supposed to spend..  
Their only desire is to walk in the eternal of darkness.. They abandoned the light.. Just threw it away..  
And now they want to embrace those deadly shadows, that only wish to drain the souls of lesser spirits, leaving them empty of all life's essence..  
Hideous; blood red shells left upon the ground.. All dreams taken.. The hollow of all thoughts.. The final outcome for all that is weak..  
It cannot remain so.. Seal their fates! Seal the fates of them all! Put an end to their despairing madness..  
By letting them all hear your voice.. A voice that is soft, warm like light of the sun, and yet as pale as light of the moon..

And once again, you shall speak with words so great, that they could indeed belong to a god.. And then..  
You'll show us this sky in it's true color of dim black, and say that it never was of white and blue to even begin with.. And though you once spoke to me these words of remembrance: 'Run.. Oh do run away from the ever-burning hands of death, for if they manage to catch you.. Just a single spark of flame, and you'll become the last piece of a puzzle called the crimson colored sky.. An ancient puzzle that has always been, yet has never been solved, completed.'

I still doubt your words.. I know shouldn't doubt your words.. Should none of us ever doubt or lie..  
So if I now speak out the words of absolute truth.. Will those be the first or the last words of this life?  
But isn't it clear, that I believe in you.. I believe you're the only one who can look into the mirror of forgotten souls, and survive that mind-rendering process of unimaginable torment.. You must also know I once tried to look into that mirror myself.. And never have my eyes seen again.. However, I'm far from being blind..  
For it is so, that I can still see with the powers of my mind.. It took me countless of ages to obtain these abilities forgotten by time.. You shall know of the nature of these abilities one day, but I'm afraid we're now running out of time.. The lady of spirits, who travels between the worlds, and always dresses in dark emerald robes, has finally arrived..  
To cast the spell of eternity upon your dream.. To bless your attempt with determination and hope..

So this is where all paths were always meant to lead..  
The great garden of crystallized flowers, full of weird statues depicting very eldritch-looking; alien creatures long-since presumed dead..  
This is their legendary temple of lost stars.. This is the place, where you shall rest until you've found a way to restore that, which we once called the light..  
And until then, I am become a guardian to this quiet place.. May no other; darker soul ever come to know of your long spiritual journey beyond the walls of time.. Where..  
Even sands will move from your path, if you wave your hands just once..  
Vast oceans will move from sight of your eyes, if you wave your hands twice..  
But do not wave your hands for three times in a row, for such an act could accidentally..  
Release the impure spirits of the dark o' night..  
And you don't want to become one with those kind of spirits.. Your dream must stay intact; unbroken for eternities..  
I don't sleep myself, for I am not of this world.. Truth be spoken, neither are you..

But you chose this path..  
You want to be a god..  
And to become one, you must return wise a thousandfold from the realm of eternal rest..  
So be alone there, my child.. Survive all of the given trials.. Trust in your abilities; those of careful meditation and inner peace.. Remember to maintain your balance..  
Hold unto these practises, and your existence will definitely endure all that is thrown at it..  
And I shall awaken you, when the sky is no longer black..  
When this once sacred, now barren and dark land is theirs no more..  
I shall awaken you, when you've conquered all that belongs to this dream..  
For this dream is a path that you must walk until it's end to become a god!

And I have always known you will eventually succeed  
Yet some mysteries better stay mysteries, until finally revealed..  
Though this dark knowledge of mine; all these untold secrets aren't meant for many minds, nor eyes to see..  
For this dream is a path that you must walk all the way to it's long, long end  
So keep these words of wisdom close to your heart, and tread onward unseen..  
Do not let a single shadow be in the way of you achieving a state of true immortality..

 

Spoken by the shadowy spirit of Agravyn:

 

"Listen to the wind, it wants us to find something,

That has been lost for thousands of years.

It used to be a temple, hidden from all eyes.

Unending rain, the sun never shone through those black clouds.

The darkness frightened us, and so we abandoned the temple.

But we lost something very important and precious.

And so, one by one, we strayed from the path,

None of us ever saw the rays of daylight again.

Unlock of the secrets of crystal rain, doomed to fail.

We lost ourselves to the primordial flame, which scorched our brains."

 

Tales of The Six: Evils of the Netherworld of Tha'kresis - Act I

 

There has always been one place on the unearthly soil of Tha'kresis, where an unspeakable silence dwells, deep within a horrid labyrinth of Ruuzhimák, which was built with Eksorai stone, flesh and blood of many enslaved Em'lyraenkhian's (called Mortals henceforth). Those who boldly enter, shall not safely return. And should they encounter Shuenakhraviith the Arsonist, then their souls are destined to burn in everflame. There is only one true way out. Only darkness and carefully placed braziers to guide the lost explorer's way, oh do scream and shout. It will help you not, left here to rot, where only the arachnids of all sizes small and giant dare to crawl. Serpents sometimes venture here to consume what is left of those, who wished they were ready to face the horrors of Ruuzhimák.  
   
Some of them have been tortured in the labyrinth's depths and it's many rooms of reeking death and insanity, put through various dark outer plane tests, including fighting in drug-induced dream scenarios until the limits of mental exhaustion, occurring in real-time with the dreamer experiencing the pain caused in his or her physical body. Bleeding from one's eyes, uncontrollable shaking of limbs and severe nausea. These exceptionally endurable, once humane specimens have been turned into mindless puppets of slaughter and bloodshed by Chaos (Bralasthye, shortly, Alaysthe), who is the master of disorder, panic, fear and manipulative mind control. She resides permanently underground, where none else is allowed to go except for Shuenrakh. Whenever the Void Weaver, Zerégliathum, descends down from the webbed sky of it's creation, it sometimes ventures down into the labyrinth to seek out something to eat. Living or dead, it always catches it's prey. Her throne is high; crude, demonic and ebony. She treats Zerégliathum as her precious pet, for so often it comes to see her, bearing gifts. Web-wrapped corpses of Mortals, their souls still intact, ready to be consumed with pleasure.  
   
'Spirit and soul are different things in the Xorposh lore. Spirit is that, which shall always remain, and that which can be chained after the physical body has been lost to either time or violence. Soul is one's life force; the utmost source of vitality, along with the beating heart of uncounted veins. That which cannot be replaced, and that which can be broken as well. In Tha'kresis, the spirits are sent through Krómelestriih, Vortex of the Starless Sky, Ilethriam's gateway to other galaxies and various distant dimensions. Their destination (among many others): Vim'aelesh, the World of Darbeian. So it has been for too long. She gained the keys of life's solace, only to bring the promised race to ruin. Void, o' void. How far does ye scheme reach? Those primordial will always have a final say.. in everything. Even though it does not speak, sometimes.. influence and images.. are enough.'  
   
Alaysthe is not a tall woman, she usually moves in a very hunchback-like manner, but if she stands up in her full figure, and begins to stare at you, that.. is the moment when you should flee for your life. For you see, she is always dressed in a black; golden patterned robe, like many of The Six do dress in robes, and normally, you cannot see her face at all, for it is concealed beneath a veil of silken black; a void's mask. She leaves those alone, who know better not to stare at her face. It is said, that Alayesthe's face reflects in it's beholder fear enough to cause the collapse of one's vital systems, eventually leading to a heart failure. Mark of the Arachnids incised in her once so beautiful face, still left with some feminine signs, and the magenta dark blue hair of medium length. Her mouth of a maw is wide, and her teeth are sharp.  
   
The Bronzen Bull's Chamber of Fire, the Breaker's Wheel of Hammer, the Maiden of Iron and Spikes and the Polished Stone Pyramid of Lowered Rope. Those are a few of the torturing devices and machines, which Alaysthe uses in the various sections of Ruuzhimák. She loves to watch her sworn cultists carry out the ceremonies, take part in each, and then commit heinous sexual acts with the tortured males, should they be willing to accept her love of utmost obedience. Chaos is a lustful being, haunted by those who cannot think clearly in their lives, fear the unknown and live under the shadow of panic and disorientation. She beckons them, with words so fair and wise, lures them to Tha'kresis, and then into the labyrinth.. never.. to be.. seen again.. among the living.  
   
Zolthamair, who also rarely goes by the name of Kremaizolth, is a ruthless savage born in the aftermath of Tha'kresis's creational pinnacle, when the spiraling towers and unsymmetric mountains arose from the void's depths, it did not take long for Destruction to emerge from midst the ruins of this new; unholy and broken world, although many others came before her.  
   
She was hungry for fresh flesh, and would spread her wings to find her prey, and use the impure air so dead to her advantage, bringing about a chain of ages doomed to fall before her ways of nothingness. When harm comes to mind, and rage fuels one's world of thoughts, leaving only vengeance resting upon the heart, seek her guidance, and make.. her.. proud.  
   
Kremaizolth: "There is one solution to fit them all, gloriously a skull is smashed in, while the very essence of life flees from within. No solace to be found, no hope to be given. Hear me now, repeat my words of power, and you may be spared from my wrath. Should you.. choose not to listen.. know that.. there are many possibilities.. in death. Trick me, and your corpse shall never be found from the bottomless pits of my mother's Mourail Dostruum, which governs all that belongs to the leagues of darkness, and the nameless monstrosities lurking beneath the sanguine black waves. Never.. call.. me.. Kremaizolth!"  
   
It is wise not to speak her primary name aloud, for that act of doom calls upon her inner spirit of havoc. And relentless is an understatement, should it occur, for that could be anyone's first and last grave mistake. When addressed as Zolthamair, however, she transforms into this fair; fine dark lady, who usually leaves everyone be and keeps to herself. But when she is addressed as Kremaizolth, her personality switches entirely, letting her ugly side to fill in, to brutally kill without mercy. Her artifact form, the truest weapon of Destruction is a reddish violet comet, and hurling she moves in the range of space, sightseeing into infinity.  
Do not call her by the name of Kremaizolth, unless you are Mother Darkness herself. Only she can fully withstand the consequences, violently receive the anger and damage, and then calmly tame the raging beast, turning her back to Zolthamair's state of unnatural disappearances. In her usual form, she is very ghostly; elusive, almost non-existent or noticeable, expressionless, and can phase through physical objects at ease. Her face is pale, so very pale, until it is dyed red.. by the flames of fury. Do not be near her, when that happens. If not called by her better half of the name, she will remain in the state of Destruction for three whole mortal days (144 earthly hours), during which her powers increase by every single passing day. She lives in the most distant reaches of Tha'kresis for a good reason. Her will become calamity itself cannot possibly be contained, yet she loves to observe in her more quieter form, even though her intentions are still evil, no matter the disguise. Nothing ever changes in deaths of The Six. Kremaizolth he does not need additional weapons, for she is a weapon. Her pure; normally dormant physical strength is said to match that of Oerath the Windy Sage. And if she desires to use a weapon, Ilethriam specifically designed a three-meter tall two-handed sledgehammer for her; perfected with a spike in hitting part of the Eksorai stone slab, and sulfur-infused dark steel for handle. This weapon is called Delatnïr, and she uses it only on special occasions.  
   
A night in Tha'kresis is eternal, and it was about to be turned red once more. Shuenrakh found herself wandering in Hataomkeresh once again, near a dried pond, where trees dried their dryness, she saw Maerqwath's reflection, and tried to reach out for him, only to notice that it was just an after image. Her was no longer there, exchanging burning thoughts with her. That damned traitor, she thought to herself, and pushed on to find out where the scavenger birds she sent off one quarter of an age ago (250 earthly years) had disappeared. "Always late, picking up remains. Hate.. hate.. hate. Always late, is it fate? No, such foolishness! Curses... curses... curses!? No, I must.. find those.. responsible.. desert life.. does not flourish. Nourish your wounds in the everflame. Yes. Cherish it, or just simply perish to cinders.  
   
And so she walked on and on, the laughing sun scorching her brains, but the dear birds of the rotting dead were nowhere to be seen. Only Death. And her news.. were not to Shuenrakh's liking.  
   
Dancing with her mask of ophidian bloodstains on, holding a long; black scythe with polished silver blade, which houses a demonic horde of seething shadows, in her right hand. She was there, alone, humming along to some ancient tune of slaughter none of the living could even hope to recognize, unless they have been under Ilethriam's Insanity right from the beginning. Upon being approached, Nostreleth suddenly stopped, knelt down, pointing North of the red sky with her left hand's broken forefinger, hissing: "Wicked birds, empty words. I saw many a dead - not too long from now - that twisted way..."  
   
Shuenrakh looked at Nostreleth with a most confusing; puzzling face, saying: "And here I thought I was being cryptic. Now look at you, you have evolved in wordy matters of the mortal tongue. Give it an aeon or two, and you should be up at my level. So, what you are saying.. is that.. my scouting birds.. are gone? This is my desert, most alarming. What could have slain them, or scared away? Who would dare to lay a hand on the birds under my corruption spell. Unthinkable actions will be punished."  
   
Nostreleth: "You and your dreaded birds. I am heading to Terra to sign a new contract sealed with blood. See you later at the nightfall's dinner, sister dear."  
   
Sighing, Shuenrakh replied: "Ah, it has been a while, I guess I should attend tonight's nightfall's dinner then. What might be on the menu?"  
   
Barely smirking, Nostreleth shouted just before entering an Iel'inshaer portal: "Eyeballs boiled in blood and spices, spoiled; coal-black vegetables and a carved mortal skull filled with venom-coated slugs, worms and leeches per each individual feeder. Delicious!"  
   
"Even those who walk in death must eat every now and then. See you there. That indeed sounds too good to pass. Have a dismal journey!"  
   
Shuenrakh smiled briefly, for she is glad the Sisters and remaining Two could finally tolerate each other, for it has not always been like this. In the past, Nostreleth and Ebsontheia were always the ones causing trouble beyond the limits of a dark being. But even livestock must be treated with care, for the keeper benefits from doing so, allowing the animal to become a sacrifice for a just cause. In a same manner, the faithful of death must have respect towards mortals, for they are their main source of vitality. Those truly Eternal (The Six), however, do not need the comfort of flesh, yet they appreciate it, and consider it a luxurious delicacy. She knew this all too well, and was slowly becoming hungry from the thought. Sighing, she gave up, and started backtracking herself by blinking in leaps of five meters.  
   
Shuenrakh: "I am done with this fruitless search. May the birds return when they must. Meanwhile.. all.. must.. burn!"  
   
And then her form changed, the skeletal face revealed, and there they were again, the flames of all colors, engulfing the blackened orange scene behind her unsightly presence. Those who were standing or walking near them that night, burnt to a crisp. Nothing ever lives for too long in the desert of Hataomkeresh. But it always stays clean thanks to the wildlife feeding off raw flesh and blood, and it's vast dunes of quicksand that run deep with well-preserved corpses of lost adventurers. The sky is the only safe place underneath the crimson illumination of light it casts down upon the wasteland of the dead.


End file.
